Leading Lady
by EllTeeEm
Summary: Bella wants to get under Edward by being at the top of his class. Can she win his love and the starring role?
1. What's Past is Prologue

**Author's Note: The characters and settings of Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. The original content, ideas, and plot lines of this story belong to the author. The events in this story are fictional and any similarities to actual persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Additionally, this story contains subject matter not suitable for minors. Underage drinking, drug use, consensual sex, strong language, abuse, and other adult content may be present in this story. Again, all sex in this story is consensual. If you are under 18 and/or uncomfortable with any of these subjects, please be advised that this story may not be for you.**

**Please visit ellteeem[dash]leadinglady[dot]blogspot[dot]com for additional content.**

**A billion ass grabs to my beta, C Shell! Thanks for taking all my hilarious inquiries seriously.**

EDWARD.

I scrub my hand over my face as the "Welcome to Forks" sign pulls into view. My three-day drive from Chicago is finally coming to an end. My eyes have gone a bit blurry from fatigue. Though it's only 6 pm, I feel utterly exhausted. I'm sore and cramped from sitting in the car for hours on end and sleeping on the shitty, middle-of-nowhere motel beds.

Luckily, the movers beat me to my new place and my own bed will be waiting for me when I get there. I can't wait to shower, jack off, and crash. I'll deal with unpacking in the morning.

As I round the corner and turn onto the street I would now call home, the moving truck comes into view. The guys have already moved some of my furniture onto the sidewalk and are waiting for me to unlock the door to the little blue house that my sister, Alice, told me I'd "absolutely love!"

I pull up behind the truck and cut the engine. I take a deep breath and contemplate what I've gotten myself into. Only a few weeks ago, I completed my master's degree at Northwestern University. I crammed the three-year program into two-and-a-half, and had planned to go on to pursue stage directing. What I hadn't planned for, however, was the panicked phone call I received from Alice.

Alice is the librarian at Forks High School, a position I'm convinced she took in order to make herself privy to the gossip of the small town she'd been living in. Alice loves few things more than meddling in other people's business.

When I took her call, she was all but in tears over an issue that was allegedly threatening the existence of the school's arts program. She seemed to be under the impression that I could help. According to Alice, the performing arts teacher had up and left for Italy or some shit and the school was now in desperate need of a drama nerd with teaching credentials. As much as I didn't want to move to a town with a population smaller than the student body at my alma mater, Al thought I fit the bill perfectly, and I couldn't resist her pleas no matter the circumstance. And I couldn't ignore the fact that there would be talented kids out there without means to an artistic outlet.

On top of the fact that I'm about to inherit a classroom full of hyper theatre freaks, the Italy-bound teacher left an AP English class behind. Alice had the bright fucking idea that I would fill those shoes as well. I have some basic knowledge of the reading material, and enjoy the books I was meant to cover, and the guy left me his notes. I figured, what the hell, I'll at least try.

So I packed up my small apartment, kissed my parents and friends goodbye, and hit the road. I have no idea what I'm getting myself into exactly, but I guess I'll give it a shot. If nothing else, I get to be close to my sister and her new husband, Jasper. She eloped with the French teacher at Forks only a few months ago and no one in the family has even met him yet.

Alice has a pension for abrupt decisions - she'd moved to Forks on a whim after reading an article about the impending death of the Olympic Rainforest - so it came as no surprise to Carlisle, Esme, or myself that Alice had up and married a dude she'd met only months ago. I'm really hoping that I'm not going to have to rough up a guy I've never met because he's knocked up my baby sister, or worse.

I run my hand over my face for the millionth fucking time and get out of the car. I look around and take in my surroundings. Small houses line the narrow, shady street. The house next to mine is a Barbie-pink atrocity; the mailbox reads 'Cope' in curly letters, and a stout woman - dressed in pink - waddles across the lawn to fetch her mail. I wave politely at her and she smiles back before I turn my head to observe the rest of the street.

It seems quiet enough. Average. I sigh and prepare myself to haul my things inside.

Out of the corner of my eye, a shift of movement catches my attention. Sitting on a bench on the porch of a white house across the street sits the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. I lean against my car as I observe her. Her hair falls like a veil around her face as she leans over a book I can't quite make out the title of. Her slender, jean-clad legs are folded underneath her, and the pale sliver of an arm peeks out of her black shirt.

_Jesus. Fuck._

I'm suddenly realizing that I need to get my hands in my pants much sooner than I had previously anticipated.

Before she has the chance to notice me staring at her with a blazing hard-on, I adjust my pants and walk over to where the movers are standing among my belongings.

Once everything has been moved into my new house, I sit down on one of my boxes and pull out my phone. I want to let her know I got here safely, though my thoughts are still across the street with the brown-eyed reader. As I dial Alice's number and wait for her to pick up, I can't help but think about the way The Reader's hair cloaked her in deep mahogany, the way her fingers delicately curled around the spine of the book...

Alice picks up after one ring and I'm met with the most ridiculously excited squeal.

"Edward! Hiiii!"

"Uh, hey, Al. Just wanted to let you know that I'm here. My stuff's in the house. So, uh, thanks for arranging this."

"That's great! Jazz and I are coming over right now!"

"Listen, Al, I'm exhausted. I'm just gonna call it a night. If you and... Jasper wanna come over in the morning to help me unpack, that'd be fine."

"Okay. That sounds great! You really should finish unpacking as soon as possible because you have to be at school on Monday for office hours. There are substitutes covering your classes through the end of the semester, but you'll need to be there to meet with students and get organized for next semester," Alice rattles.

I hardly hear her. I'm trying to look out the window onto the porch across the street. "Sounds good to me. I'll see you in the morning." I hang up my phone and walk upstairs.

Rather than assemble the bed frame tonight, I opt to throw some sheets on top of the mattress on the floor and head for the shower.

I turn the water on full-blast and let the heat pelt me, pounding away the ache and tension in my body. I let my thoughts wander as I lather up a bar of soap and run the suds methodically over my body. I wonder what the woman from across the street is doing now. It's just after 9; perhaps she's also readying herself for bed. I imagine her at a mirror, slowly running a comb through her hair. I stiffen at the thought of it. Fucking hair combing gets me excited now. I'm becoming one sick bastard. Maybe it was just the drive. Maybe I'm just lonely. Whatever.

I don't resist the urge. I grab my hard dick and pump away until I feel the sweet burn course through me when I come against the tile of the shower wall.

I stumble numbly out of the bathroom and fall naked onto my mattress. I try to stay awake long enough to get off again, but my eyes drift closed as I imagine The Reader humming me to sleep.

I pass out with my hand on my junk.

I wake up the next day in the grey light of early morning. The sound of my phone buzzing on the hardwood floor next to my sad excuse for a bed startles me awake.

"Hello?" I slur into the receiver and sit up.

"Edward. I'm outside. Get up and put some clothes on," Alice orders in my ear.

"How do you know I'm naked?" I rub my blurry eyes and try to steady myself.

"Edward, I'm your sister. I know everything about you. You're in a house by yourself, so of course you're naked," she huffs.

"Oh, God. I hope you don't know everything. Give me five minutes. I'll be down once I'm dressed." I hang up without waiting for a goodbye.

I pull myself off the mattress and walk over to my suitcase. I throw on a pair of dark jeans and a white tee shirt. There's no use in getting dressed up when I know I'll be sweating in a matter of minutes.

I pad barefoot down the stairs and open the front door.

"Eddie!" Alice screams and leaps into my arms.

"Hey, Alice," I say hoarsely. I'm still barely awake. It's not until I put her down that I notice that another person is standing on my porch.

A blonde, wiry-looking dude is standing next to my baby sister, holding one of those giant to-go boxes of coffee and what looks suspiciously like a box of donuts. I like this guy already.

"Hey, I'm Jazz. I'd, uh, shake your hand, but..." he says lifting the coffee and donuts to show that he has his hands full.

"Hey, that's alright. I'm Edward," I say, and awkwardly clap him on the back before I show them both inside.

Jazz puts the food down on the kitchen counter. Alice digs around and finds a few mismatched mugs in one of my boxes and pours us all some coffee. We drink and eat in silence for a few minutes while I try to wake up. I can't help but notice the way my sister looks at Jasper all fucking dewy-eyed, and the way that he keeps finding a way to touch her. His hand rubs her upper back as she leans against the counter, sipping her very sugary coffee.

My eyes are fixed on the white house across the street. I can see it plainly through the large, curtain-less picture window at the front of my house. I wonder if that woman will come out again, or if she's perhaps looking out her window, too... looking at me.

I watch as a police car pulls up in front of the house, obscuring my view of the porch.

"Hey, Alice. I thought you said that this was a safe neighborhood," I mumble through a sugar-covered donut.

"Yeah, it's really safe. Why? You scared being in a big house all alone?" she teases.

"No, it's just... there's a police car out there. I hope everything's okay with... the person who lives in that house." I try to mask my peaked and particular interest in that house and take another sip of my coffee.

"Yeah, that's why it's so safe. The police chief lives there. His daughter goes to Forks High, actually. She just moved back here."

The beautiful woman I saw last night must be his wife. I feel a stab of jealousy. This police chief is one lucky bastard.

"What about her mother?" I ask, hoping Alice will tell me that she's a philandering woman who sleeps with all her neighbors.

"I think her mother lives in Arizona somewhere. It's just Chief Swan and his daughter that live there in that house. Must get so lonely," Alice says on a sigh. I can see she's pained by this poor girls plight, whatever it is.

My slow, sleepy brain finally catches up with me and I realize that the woman I stroked my cock to last night must be the police chief's daughter. I nearly choke on my coffee. I feel sick.

_She is a high school student, for Christ's sake, you pedophiliac fuck,_ I think to myself as I spit and sputter hot liquid all over my white shirt.

"Jesus, man. You alright?" Jasper asks, handing me a brown paper napkin.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," I reply, wiping down my tee shirt. "Just a bit hotter than I thought." _The girl or the coffee, Cullen, huh?_

"So," I turn to face Jasper, desperate to change the subject, "Alice tells me you teach French at the high school."

"Yup. Sure do. That's how I wooed this fine young lady." He grins and gives Alice a swift pat on her backside. I look away, not wanting to see whatever they're about to do.

We pass most of the morning and early afternoon unpacking boxes and arranging furniture. If I had it my way, I'd just as soon have thrown everything in the cupboards and drawers and worked on setting up my cable, but Alice insists that I make a "place for everything and keep everything in its place." Her words.

As two o'clock draws closer, things look to be getting more or less wrapped up, and we decide to go out for lunch because I have no groceries to speak of.

I go upstairs to change out of my coffee-stained shirt. As I slip out of my tee and into a plain button-down, I look out of my bedroom window. It faces out onto the street and gives me a pretty good view of the neighborhood.

I watch as a Rabbit pulls up behind the police cruiser and honks. The reader, the woman - girl - who has haunted my thoughts throughout the day, despite the fact that I know she's in high school, runs down the front steps and around the back of the car. I see her slide into the passenger seat. I can't see the driver, but I hope to God that it's a girl because the idea of this beautiful woman getting into a shitty car next to some STD-infected high school boy makes me want to throw my fist straight through the window.

I exhale and finish buttoning my shirt as I watch them pull away and drive down the street. I push The Reader out of my head and walk down the stairs, ready to attempt to embrace a new life here.


	2. In My Mind's Eye

**Author's Note: The characters and settings of Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. The original content, ideas, and plot lines of this story belong to the author. The events in this story are fictional and any similarities to actual persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Additionally, this story contains subject matter not suitable for minors. Underage drinking, drug use, consensual sex, strong language, abuse, and other adult content may be present in this story. Again, all sex in this story is consensual. If you are under 18 and/or uncomfortable with any of these subjects, please be advised that this story may not be for you.**

Leading Lady

Chapter 2 - In My Mind's Eye

BELLA.

I'm sitting on the floor next to the coffee table in Charlie's living room, poring over my calculus homework. Even though it's a Friday evening, I know that if I don't spend the entire weekend trying to figure this stuff out, I'm going to fail the final on Monday.

Just as I'm getting ready to close up my textbook and go poke around in the kitchen for Charlie's dinner, I hear the distinct sound of a moving van backing up. I know that no vehicle bigger than a pickup should be able to fit down this narrow street, so I'm not going to miss this free entertainment.

Nothing is more exciting to the town of Forks than a new person moving in. I would know.

When I moved here 4 months ago, I was practically greeted with a Macy's Day parade. My dad Charlie had obviously talked me up around town. On my first day at Forks High School this past September, people literally came running up to me, screaming "Isabella!"

I'm like, "It's Bella, but whatever."

I'm really excited to no longer be the newest arrival to Forks. Whoever this unfortunate creature is, I'm definitely going to like them. They get to be the new freak in town.

Don't get me wrong, I do love the attention - but it's becoming exhausting trying to convince everyone that the place I come from is a wonderful world full of hearts and stars. I have no desire to discuss my mother Renee, and her revolving door of boyfriends. I do not care to talk about why her name was in the local paper back in Phoenix last August. I refuse to discuss Phil Dwyer or anything that has to do with Phil Dwyer.

_Fuck you, Google, fuck you._

I grip the coffee table and push myself off the floor. I go to look out the window onto the street. As suspected, a moving van is parked across the street. It appears that someone has finally bought the little blue house that has sat vacant for as long as I'd been here.

A bunch of moving guys are pulling furniture out of the van and placing it on the sidewalk and front lawn. I watch as they pull out a beige couch, a navy blue armchair, a mattress, and two mismatched bedside tables. I try to imagine what kind of person would own all this stuff. I picture everyone from a recent college grad to a creepy used-furniture collector. I give up eventually and decide to take my viewing party to the front porch.

I grab my copy of _Crime and Punishment_. It is a both a crime and a punishment to force students to read this book, but I'll at least pretend to read the damn thing. Staring is rude, after all.

I sit on the old wooden bench Charlie has kept on the porch since before I was born. I only know this because Charlie keeps a picture of us sitting on this bench together on the day that he and Renee brought me home from the hospital. It's the first and only photo of me with both of my parents, and Charlie refuses to take it off the mantel. It's sad, really, but I guess I can deal with it.

I curl my legs under myself and open the book to a random page. It's getting near 6 and the sun is going down. I shouldn't be outside in mid-December without a coat, but honestly, I don't really believe in coats. Having come from a place with such hot weather, I couldn't imagine that anywhere could get this cold. I probably should go back inside and get a sweater or something, but I have the feeling the show is about to get really good and I don't want to miss the moment of the homeowner's arrival.

A chill runs through me and I shake my head, hoping my hair will fall like a blanket around me and shield me from the cold. I grip the sorry book in my hand and pretend to read it for a few moments.

After was seems like forever of zoning out on a 'v' on page 88, the glint of a moving car catches my attention. Careful not to draw too much attention to myself, I peek up through my hair. A fancy-looking silver Volvo pulls up behind the moving van. The driver cuts the headlights and I can barely make out the figure of a person through the dark windows.

It's a man.

A very cute man.

He sits in his car for a while, just grinding the heels of his hands into his closed eyes and breathing heavily. I guess that what was a very long drive for him has just ended and he's starting to realize where he actually is. This eye grinding and breathing thing lasts so long, I think I might as well just get up and start Charlie's dinner.

He'll undoubtedly be waking up soon for his shift and he will be starving as always. After a few days of watching him microwave Hungry Man dinners before heading off to the station, I decided I would have to cook him what I now affectionately call "deckfast."

Charlie works the night shift at the Forks police station. Even though it is arguably the shittiest shift to work, Charlie had first pick of it as police chief. He claims to be a night owl, and I don't really mind it. It means I'm left alone most of the time. He usually wakes up at around 6:30 or 7 at night, I make him his dinner-breakfast, and he heads over to the station for a 12-hour shift. He comes home around 8 in the morning just as I'm leaving for school and he sleeps the whole day.

The routine works pretty well for me.

Just as I'm getting ready to give up on experiencing a sighting of this rare beast, the man steps out of the car. He stretches and my eyes go wide as his green tee shirt rides up and exposes an expanse of pale skin. I may have even gotten a peek at a happy trail. He is tall with dark reddish hair and is extremely good-looking. It kind of hurts to look at the guy, actually. He's that hot.

He waves at Mrs. Cope, which reminds me that I have to find a way to get out of her AP English class before next semester. I look around to see if I've brought a pencil out with me to make a note of this. As I move, I feel him look at me.

I let my hair fall around my face. I want to see him, but I don't want him seeing me. I bend my face toward my book and peek up through my lashes at him. He does a double take in my direction and I can feel myself turning red. Maybe he can see me looking at him.

He shuts the door of his car and leans against it. He stares at me for a long time and it becomes clear that he has no idea that I know he's doing this.

This gives me a good chance to really look at him.

I can finally see that his eyes are a beautiful, deep shade of green like his shirt and that his arms are toned and strong. He looks young, no older than 25, I'd guess, but he somehow seems older than that at the same time. Like he's mature, intelligent. I wonder what brings him to Forks. He seems more of a big-city type. I can't picture him as a logger or a park ranger.

I realize I'm probably reading way too far into my new neighbor.

He sighs and closes his eyes for a second before he awkwardly shakes one leg and twists the waistband of his jeans. I want to stay and watch him lift heavy objects, but I hear Charlie clomping around upstairs in his steel-toed boots. It's deckfast time.

I make steak and eggs for dinner. Charlie and I sit in his small kitchen eating together in silence before he heads off to work.

After Charlie leaves, I wander around the house for a little while. I feel oddly unsettled and I can't figure out what's nagging me in the back of my mind. After meticulously straightening all the picture frames above the fireplace, arranging the fishing magazines on the coffee table in chronological order, and fluffing the pillows on the couch, I give up and decide to go back to my calculus homework.

I carry my textbook up to my room and lay down on my bed with it. I last only a few minutes before my thoughts drift to Mr. Sexy across the street. I scoot over to the edge of my bed, effectively leaving my textbook behind. I peer out the window towards his house. It has gotten dark outside and a few of the windows of the house are illuminated with a yellow glow. The moving van is still parked in front. Every few minutes a mover dude comes out and grabs a box or two.

I keep hoping that Mr. Sexy will come out to get a box himself. But he doesn't and eventually all the movers come out of the house and the van pulls away. All the lights in the house systematically shut off. All but one.

A large, square window affords me a view into a room on the second floor. I assume it's his bedroom, but I can't tell because there's no furniture in the room yet. I press my nose up against my own bedroom window and try to see into his.

Suddenly he walks into the room. Though I can only see his upper half, he appears to be naked.

I fall off my bed.

I sit there on the floor for a second as my head spins.

Mr. Sexy is really fucking sexy.

It dawns on me just how voyeuristic I'm being. It's actually kind of gross. I don't know how I'd feel if I knew someone was looking in on me like that. Maybe if it was Mr. Sexy peeking in on me, it'd be okay...

Whatever, it's not my fault that he doesn't have any goddamn curtains on his bedroom window. I can't help myself.

But I have to be honest. It's weird.

I desperately want to return to my window. I want to sit on the sill all night with my fingers pressed against the glass. I want - need - to know more about this man. I feel this inexplicable pull towards him. It's an all-consuming desire to know more about him, to understand him, to see him.

I feel so lost in my hunger for knowledge of this man that I barely hear the sound of the phone ringing downstairs. I push myself off the floor and walk unhurriedly down the stairs to the kitchen. I have a good idea of who's calling and if I'm right, he'll be calling back until I pick up.

Just as I hit the first floor, the phone rings again. My suspicions are all but confirmed.

"Hello."

"Hey, it's Jake. Is Bella there?"

"Jacob, it's me. Hi."

"Sorry. I was taught to be polite when you call a lady. Especially the police chief's daughter."

"It's not like you're calling to ask me out on a date. Wait; are you calling to ask me out on a date? Because the answer is still no."

"Aww, come on, Bells! Just one movie. It'll be fun."

"Seriously, Jacob? No. I can't. I... just can't. Please understand that."

"Okay. I get it. You wanna hang out anyway? I can come over right now!"

"No. That's okay. I have some studying to do and I'm already really tired. Finals are next week."

"Don't you think I know that?" He pauses. "Can we hang tomorrow? I have something I really wanna show you!"

"Okay, Jacob. Fine. That's fine. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Two o'clock! Can't wait!"

"Goodbye, Jacob," I nearly whine.

I hang the phone up on the wall and head back upstairs. I know that there is no chance that I'll be able to study any more tonight, not that I've been doing much of it anyway. I can't even begin to process the fact that Jacob still hasn't given up on taking me out.

I met Jacob the day I arrived in Forks. He and his father practically started a welcoming committee for me. When Charlie and I pulled up to the house, Jacob was sitting on the stoop. He helped me carry my luggage up to my room. And that's when he first asked me out. That was August. Since then, being asked out by Jacob is a weekly, or sometimes bi-weekly, event that I can rely on.

In a way, Jacob has become my closest friend here in Forks - or really anywhere. Besides the fact that he's always trying to hold my hand, he's actually a really cool guy. He's so easygoing and positive. Sometimes spending time with him is like living in a vacuum. I forget about the rest of the world when we're hanging out in his garage or eating pasta off paper plates with his father in the backyard. He's a good friend, and I don't want to go out with him and mess that up.

I've seen what people do to each other when they're "in love." My mother walked out on my father only a few days after I was born, and she claimed to love him. And I've watched for the last 17 years as she's loved countless other men. I get to see all the glory of love. The tears, the fights, the anger, the silence, and the loneliness. If this is love, I figure that staying friends with Jacob will save me a lot of trouble.

I decide to take a shower and go straight to bed. I like to be up by the time Charlie gets home.

I strip and put my clothes in the hamper and turn the water on. I quickly brush my teeth while the water heats up. When the water is finally warm enough for a human to actually touch, I step in. I don't spend long in there for fear of the water running cold.

When I get out, I put on my favorite old sweats and crawl under my covers. I press my eyes closed and try not to think about going out with Jacob, or Mr. Sexy, or calculus, or my mother, or Mr. Sexy. That's pretty much leaves me in a black mindless void so I end up reciting depressing Shakespearian monologues in my head until I fall asleep.

I sleep restlessly. I keep picturing Mr. Sexy coming into my room with his doublet unbraced, grabbing me by the wrist and holding me hard. Such is my punishment for sometimes believing that I am Ophelia.

When I wake around eight, I feel completely un-rested and slightly edgy. Not only have I dreamt about my neighbor wearing tights all night, but now I have to go hang out with Jacob. I knew he means no harm by it, but trying to find new a creative ways to wrench my hand out of his can get a little tiring. I have to give it to him - he is very dedicated to his cause. Unfortunately for him, so am I.

He said he has something he wants to show me. I'm really hoping that he hasn't decided to take our friendship to the next level and show me his penis.

I thankfully don't have to dwell on that thought for long. The front door opens, which signals Charlie's arrival back from the station and interrupts my thoughts. I wait until I hear him hang up his holster by the door before I get out of bed.

"Hey Dad!" I call down the stairs.

"Good morning, kiddo!" He calls back.

I sleepily walk down the stairs and into the kitchen. Charlie's standing in front of the open fridge with a blank look on his face. I grab the handle on the door and nudge him out of the way.

"I got it, Dad. What do you want to eat?"

"Oh, I don't know. Whatever's in there, I guess."

"How about a turkey sandwich?" I ask. He nods blankly and takes his seat at the table.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah, yup. Of course," he says without looking up from the newspaper that he's suddenly so intent on reading.

I don't push it. He is a man of few words and he'll talk if he feels like it. I assemble the sandwich quietly while I listen to him turn the pages of the paper. I sit down and eat a bowl of cereal with him while he continues to read and shove the sandwich in his face.

"I'm gonna hang out with Jacob later today. I'll be back by the time you wake up, though, to make sure that you get fed before work."

"That's okay, take your time. Have fun. I'll just eat at the diner on my way there."

"No, Dad. It's fine. I'll be back. I'll make deckfast." I like having a hard deadline when hanging out with Jacob. If I don't have somewhere to be or someone to feed deckfast to, he'll never let me out of his sight.

Charlie finally relents and agrees to let me make him his evening meal. He finishes his sandwich and dumps his plate in the sink. Without another word, he goes upstairs to his bedroom. I swear I can hear his face hit the pillow.

I clean up the kitchen and pass the time pretending to do calculus problems while I watch a bad infomercial. After much hair pulling, sighing, and eye rolling, I decide I've had enough and go sit by the window.

I'm still gazing out the living room window and hoping for a glance at my new neighbor when Jacob's Rabbit pulls up next to the cruiser. I check the clock on the wall. Two o'clock on the dot. I can't deny that I'm impressed. Jacob can be a little too laid back sometimes. So laid back, in fact, that sometimes I arrive at his house and he's still laid back in his bed. Maybe he's stepping up his game today.

Then he honks the horn. Guess not. I revel in the fact that Jacob hasn't come to my door with roses. Either he's finally getting the picture, or he's laid back in the drivers seat.

I carefully make my way to the door to leave. Even though I know Charlie is probably the deepest sleeper in the world, I can't help but tiptoe around the house. In my past experience, I've learned that waking a sleeping adult is neither wise nor prudent. I turn the key in the door, double-check the knob to make sure that I've properly locked it, and scurry out to Jacob's car. Jacob hugs me around the shoulders the second after I slide into the passenger seat.

"Bella!" he shouts in my ear and squishes me against his chest. "I missed you."

"I saw you on Friday, remember? In psych?" I mumble against his black tee shirt.

"Yeah, but that was yesterday," he moans.

"Alright, whatever. Did you want to show me my driveway, or is there something else you're interested in doing today? I gotta be back by six." I jab him in the ribs playfully as he releases me. I can't help but crack a smile.

"Right, okay." Jacob turns the key and we putter down the street in his small car. He comfortably chats the whole way down to La Push. I hardly hear a word he says. My mind is stuck back in Forks.

I want to slap myself. I simply can't stop thinking about Mr. Sexy and his pure sexiness. I keep replaying the moment I saw his naked chest through his window over and over in my head. Why did I have to fall off my bed at the sight of his glistening pecs? There was, no doubt, more juicy goodness that I could have ogled from my bedroom window. I hope he never gets curtains.

But it's not even his body I'm most interested in, though it does hold a certain appeal. I remember distinctly the depth his eyes held, the way his brow furrowed as he peered up at me, the awkward leg kick and remorseful look he had as he turned away from his car to bring his things into his new house.

I don't see the road in front of us, or the trees as they whiz by, and I hardly notice as we pull down the muddy driveway towards Jacob's garage. All I can see are soft, evergreen eyes blinking and looking away from me.

"Close your eyes," Jacob says. As if I need to. I'm practically blinded by the onslaught of images in my mind.

"Why?" I ask, a little scared. _Is this going to be the big penis moment?_

"I want it to be a surprise," he replies.

I reluctantly comply with his request. The darkness under my eyelids only gives way to more images of my neighbor and I desperately want to open them. I have to push this man from my mind. I know nothing about him and it's utterly ridiculous to perseverate on such a person.

Jacob stops the car and puts in into park before he cuts the engine.

"Can I open them now?"

"Not yet," Jacob says as he gets out of the car. Moments later I hear him open my door. He leans across my body to unbuckle my seatbelt. I want to tease him about his sorry ploy at getting close to me, but I know that making fun of him won't deter him, so I sit still until he leans back.

"Keep them shut," he whispers, and takes me by the hand to pull me out of the car. The December air is chilly and damp, but I suppress a shiver. I don't want to give him an excuse to cuddle me. With one hand in mine and the other around my waist, he guides me toward what I assume is the garage. We must look like a walking prom photo. "Okay, stop," he says, and grabs me by both shoulders to plant me in my spot.

I stand as still as I can with my hands clasped in front of me and my eyes squeezed shut. I can hear Jacob walking around the garage, but it's not until I hear a big whooshing sound like a blanket being shaken out that I sense what might be coming.

"Open them," he says proudly. When I do, I see Jacob standing between two motorcycles.

One is candy apple red and the other is black.

"Bikes, Jake? Really?" I ask incredulously.

"Yeah, Bells! I built them myself. It'll be fun."

I shake my head. "My father's going to kill you."

Jacob claps his hands together in front of his chest. "Sweet. You wanna get on one right now?"

I pray that he means no double meaning and I slowly nod my head. He ushers me over to the red bike and helps me on. As soon as I sit on it, flashes of Charlie turning a deep purple flicker in my head.

"Jacob, seriously. If my father ever finds out -"

"He won't. I promise," he says earnestly. I look at him out of the corner of my eye and just let him show me how to use the controls.

I'm not quite ready to fire the thing up, though. I feel convinced that Charlie will be able to hear the rumble of the engine all the way from Forks. I just can't risk it. I spend the afternoon watching Jacob muddy up his bike in the backyard.

When 5:30 rolls around, I seriously regret not driving my own car out to La Push. Now I have to beg Jacob to get off his bike and give me a ride home, and devise a way to avoid having Charlie invite him in for deckfast.

"Jacob?" I groan. "I think I'm catching a cold out here. I need to go home." I fake a cough into the crook of my arm.

Jacob pulls his bike right up to my side and a spray of mud narrowly misses me. "Jeez, Bella, you shoulda told me! I don't want you to get sick." He hops off his bike and puts his arm around my shoulder. I can always count on him to make a fuss over me.

He walks me straight to the Rabbit and puts me in it. He even takes the time to buckle me in, though I'm perfectly capable of handling that myself. Jacob turns the heat on full blast and spends the whole ride back to Forks telling me about every cold remedy he knows or has ever heard of. Once again, I keep quiet for the most part, letting the comfort of Jacob's deep voice wash over me as I watch the sky darken over Washington.

By the time we pull up in front of my house, Jacob almost has me convinced that I need to rub raw lemon on my chest and put sugar cubes in my nose while I shower. I have to remind myself that I'm _faking_ sick.

For once, I'm thankful that Jacob is a complete chatterbox. I almost forget about Mr. Sexy for a moment. He plagues my thoughts. I know I shouldn't reasonably be thinking about this person in the way that I'm thinking about him. For one, I hardly know him. What difference is he to me, sexy pecs or no sexy pecs? But perhaps that's the intrigue for me. The mystery that this man is shrouded in has me so desperate to learn more.

Secondly, it's super creepy of me. This is not normal behavior and I know it. Seventeen-year-old girls shouldn't be spying on men in their mid-20s. If anything, it should be the other way around. Not that that's altogether kosher either. It's wrong and it's best if I forget this person as soon as possible.

Even if I were able to figure this man out - to get close to him - it goes against all my better judgment. _Better to keep from getting too attached to anyone,_ I think.

Despite all my reasoning against my interest in Mr. Sexy, I'm still interested. I can't wait to be alone in the house after Charlie leaves. I want to see what other vantage points I can get on his house.

Jacob insists that he come inside to make me tea and tuck me in. I vehemently refuse. This is certainly not in the plan. I need to get up to my bedroom to spy on my neighbor, and I already have deckfast standing in my way. I can't stand for another delay in my stalking schedule. I have to pull out the big guns if I'm going to get out of having Jacob anywhere near a tea kettle or - I shiver to think it - my bed.

I reach across the center console and place my hand on Jacob's knee. "I'm exhausted. I just want to go to sleep. I'll call when I'm feeling better."

Jacob just sits there completely stunned by my little hand on top of his massive leg. Oops. As he tries to pull his brain cells together, I take advantage of the moment to hop out of the car and rush up the walk to the front door. I give Jacob a little wave and he reluctantly pulls away from my house.

I have been so distracted by trying to get rid of Jacob, that I haven't even noticed that Mr. Sexy is on his front porch. He's on his knees and assembling what looks to be a wood bench. _So he's good with his hands_, I think, before I mentally punch myself in the face.

I want to jump behind the hedges and watch him touch pieces of wood for the rest of the night, but then his head turns in my direction. Busted. I wave at him like a dopey idiot. Before I can see if he waves back or not, I march up the front steps and straight into the house.

"What an idiot!" I say breathlessly, smacking myself in the forehead.

"Who's an idiot, kid?" Charlie calls from the kitchen. _Shit, he's awake already?_

"I, uh, it's nothing. Just, um, Jacob. He won't stop asking me out," I answer lamely, and walk into the kitchen. Charlie's seated at the table, eating pizza straight from the box.

"Dad, I told you I was going to cook."

"I know. I didn't want you to have to worry about it. Besides, I gotta head to the station early tonight. I have a few cases I wanna wrap up before I leave."

"Where are you going?" I sit down at the table.

"Bell, I... I have to go to Phoenix on Monday. I'll be gone for about a week, probably."

A chill runs down my spine. "Why?" is all I can manage to choke out. I feel like my throat is closing up.

"Just a few things I gotta work out. Paperwork." He says this with finality, as though he doesn't want to discuss it any further. I know not to test him, so I drop it. It probably has to do with the restraining order he and I filed against Renee and Phil in August. I honestly don't want to know the details. So long as everything's fine, or will be fine soon, I can deal with it. "Want a slice?" he asks with his mouth full. He nudges the box towards me.

Suddenly, I feel legitimately sick.

"No, Dad, that's alright. I ate at Jacob's," I lie. "I'm just gonna go to bed."

"Bella, come on. It's 6 pm on a Saturday. Go out. Have fun," he encourages, trying to smile at me.

"No, Dad. I can't." I grip my stomach and run upstairs.


	3. The Better Part of Valor is Discretion

**Author's Note: The characters and settings of Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. The original content, ideas, and plot lines of this story belong to the author. The events in this story are fictional and any similarities to actual persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Additionally, this story contains subject matter not suitable for minors. Underage drinking, drug use, consensual sex, strong language, abuse, and other adult content may be present in this story. Again, all sex in this story is consensual. If you are under 18 and/or uncomfortable with any of these subjects, please be advised that this story may not be for you.**

Leading Lady

Chapter 3 - The Better Part of Valor is Discretion

It's not until I walk out my front door that I realize that Alice drove her Porsche to my place. That thing is a fucking embarrassment. My father got it for her when she earned her degree in Information Technology. It was pretty funny to give a bright yellow racing car to someone who was about to become a librarian, but I can't complain, really. I'd received my Volvo as a graduation gift as well. But Jesus, Alice really overdid it.

She insists that we go to this little diner that she likes. Of course she wants to drive, but there's no way I'm getting in that thing when there are three of us. Technically speaking, there are seats enough for four, but I can't imagine either Jasper or myself sitting ass-to-ankles on a ride into town and enjoying it. Besides, if I'm going to be in that car at all, I better be the one driving it.

She concedes and lets me drive myself.

I follow behind her and Jasper through the little streets of town. It takes us probably twice as long as it should, though, because at every stop sign they take a generous pause to make out. Some people just can't keep their hands to themselves.

We park in the small, gravelly parking lot in front of the diner. It's beginning to rain. It's a slow drizzle, but I know that worse is on its way. I duck in the door and run my hands through my damp hair. The place is almost entirely empty, save for a group of gentlemen dressed in fishing gear at a corner table. We settle on a booth across the restaurant from them.

"Don't you just love the weather here?" Alice gushes when I plop down next to her. "It's so mystical."

"Yeah, uh, it's misty alright," I reply glumly. Alice has a way of making anything positive, including dreary weather. She and Jasper cuddle into the booth in a disgustingly cute way. I glare intently at my menu in an effort to avoid letting their love cloy at me. In that moment - staring at a menu of what is guaranteed to be shitty food, in a town I know nothing about, sitting in a booth with my sister and her husband who I met just this morning - I feel intensely lonely.

Back in Chicago I was almost always surrounded by people. I always had a number to call, a rehearsal to attend, someone to meet for drinks, a girl in my bed. I have a feeling that I'm in for a major dry spell. It's not that I just want to have sex. I find myself constantly day dreaming about The Reader sprawled out on my bed. I keep imagining running my finger down her cheek, cupping her breast, or kissing her neck. Sometimes I get so lost in my fantasy that my eyes glaze over and the world around me fades away. The thought of holding her against me is so powerful that I swear I can feel the blood pulsing through her veins, a nimble thrum in my hands.

"Don't you think? Edward?" Alice tugs me by the ear.

I swat her hand away. "Ow. Shit, Alice. What the fuck?"

She snaps her tiny fingers in my face. "Pay attention. God, you're so distracted sometimes," she huffs. "I'm not even going to ask what demented crap is going on in there." She jabs a finger towards my skull.

"Alice was just asking if you think it'd be a good idea to stop by the school this afternoon to get settled," Jasper pipes in. "I can show you your office and give you a tour of campus myself."

"Uhm," I stall, rubbing my hand along the back of my neck. This is all coming at me a bit fast. I only arrived in Forks last night. I didn't realize how quickly the 48 hours I allotted myself to move in would go by. It hasn't yet been 24, but I can already feel my old life slipping away. Hell, I've already started a pattern of daydreaming about a woman I hardly know.

Jasper must see the look of fear in my eye. "Hey, that's alright, one big activity a day. We'll take a gander at FHS tomorrow. Alright, man?"

I nod. "Thanks. I just need a day to get settled."

An awkwardly tall girl comes to take our order. "Oh, hi Mrs. Whitlock... Monsieur Whitlock. It's nice to see you."

"I didn't take you for the type to change your name, sis," I wink.

Alice leans her head on Jasper's shoulder. "I think it's romantic. Sue me," she coos.

"Angela, this is my brother, Edward Cullen. He's taking over Mr. Wilcox's AP English and Drama Lit classes this spring."

"Oh cool. I'm in those classes," she says shyly as she fingers the evergreen apron she's wearing.

I put on my teacher hat. "I'm looking forward to an educational and fun-filled semester." I want to smack myself. I sound like such a douche. And now it's apparent to everyone within earshot that I have no idea what I'm doing.

"Me too," she smiles. Guess I fooled her. "What can I get you guys?"

I haven't even thought of what I want. I look back down at the menu. Alice speaks up, "We're gonna share the pasta special and a caeser salad, please. And he'll have the club sandwich, extra mayo." I have to give it to her; she has me pegged. Angela nods and backs away.

Our food takes so long to come out that I start to wonder if they're killing the pig themselves for my bacon. _This is small town life_, I think. When the food finally comes, I eat it slowly, enjoying my first real meal in Forks. I know things are changing - about to change - and I feel oddly... ceremonial about the whole thing. Alice continues to yammer about this and that as I think of running my hands through thick chocolate brown hair.

I have to constantly remind myself that the brown-haired beauty from across the street is utterly off limits. She's a student at Forks High School, for fucks sake. A student. I don't want to ask outright, but I'm pretty sure student-teacher sex was outlawed in the 80s - no matter how gentle and tender I'm imagining it to be._ Jesus, this girl has turned me into a total pussy._

I tell myself that it's just fantasy, that my thoughts are safe. As long as I don't act on it, I can think about The Reader all I want. The sad fact is, the more I think about her, the more I desire her... the more I want to be near her. I feel this desire ripping away at my resolve. I have probably told myself a hundred times today that I will not go over and introduce myself, I will not watch her through her window, and under no circumstances will I ask anyone in town about her.

But the more I think, the more I want, and the more I want, the more I think. It is a vicious cycle that is threatening to make me insane. As long as I keep my hands to myself, everything will be okay.

I'm sitting on the floor of my living room finishing up my cable installation. I'm looking forward to watching some stupid, mindless TV. I need a distraction from my distraction. I haven't been able to wipe her from my mind all afternoon. When I came home, I glanced at - okay, I full on investigated - the house across the street. All the lights appeared to be off and it looked like no one was home. I concluded that The Reader must still be out with her friend.

It kills me a little to imagine what they are doing together. If she's with a girl, she's probably talking about boys. And if she's with a boy, well, she's with a boy. I can't decide which is worse.

I sink into the couch and flip on the TV. I start watching some inane reality show, but the plot lines are too complicated to follow and soon I feel my eyes drifting closed. I don't fight it.

When I wake up, the clock on the cable box tells me I've been sleeping for a few hours. It's starting to darken outside. I know that a tour of a small high school with Alice will likely take all day tomorrow, so I decide to work on a few things around the house before it get too dark. I go out front and sweep the porch and the walk. I look at the sad little front yard. I don't know anything about flowers or gardening, but I know my place looks like shit. I make a mental note to ask Alice about fixing up the yard.

There's a box sitting near the front door. I'm dreading the task it contains, but I know I should just get it out of the way. I'm due to call my mother Esme, and I know that the first thing out of her mouth will be "did you set up the bench yet?"

When I left Chicago, my mother insisted that I take the wooden bench from her front porch. She had taken a picture of me sitting on that thing for every first day of school I ever had, and I knew she'd be crushed if I didn't have someone snap a photo of me on it before my first day at Forks High School - as a teacher.

She refused to let the movers take it. It had to be in my possession at all times. So I disassembled the bench, boxed it up, and crammed it in the back of my car. Now I have to face the daunting task of putting it back together. I know a decent amount about carpentry from my years of theatre training. Everyone has to pay his or her dues in the set shop. I can use power tools as well as the next man but I just don't like to.

I'm removing the pieces from the box and laying them out on the porch when the Rabbit pulls up to the house across the street again. It sits there for a moment, neither passenger nor driver seeming to move. I watch with fixed curiosity. The driver is a boy. _Is he her boyfriend? Are they about to kiss?_ I'm about to protect my brain from that poisonous thought and look away, but the girl abruptly hops out of the car. She wave goodbye to the boy and he drives away.

She has a devious little grin on her face. Like she's glad to see him go. Suddenly, she catches me looking at her. Her little mouth pops open. Even from across the street, I can see her eyes roaming over the work I'm doing. She slowly raises her hand and waves at me. I can't help the smile that breaks out across my face. I lift my hand to wave back at her, but she has already turned towards the house. Her hair sways from side to side as she walks up the steps. I try to keep my eyes off her pert little ass.

The door slams.

Before I can even give myself the chance to start thinking about her, I put myself to work. I finish the bench in no time.

When it's done, I sit on it for a while. The police chief comes out and gets in his car. He drives away without seeing me.

I break my promise to myself and look up at an illuminated window on the second story. I can't see her, but I think of her.

I think of her all night.

I drive myself to the high school in the morning. It's a dreary Sunday. There's ice on the ground. Alice and Jasper are leaning up against her car in the parking lot, making out like, well, teenagers. I park next to them and drag my body from my warm seat into the harsh winter air.

"Hey, lovebirds. Stop sucking face so we can get this over with."

Jasper removes his face from my sister's with a loud popping sound. I struggle to keep my morning coffee down.

"Welcome to Forks High School," they say in unison, turning towards me. They look back at each other and burst into laughter. _Very cute, _I think. I'm happy to see my sister happy, but Jesus fuck, these two are starting to grate on my nerves.

"Come on." Alice jerks her head in the direction of the school. I follow her as she holds hands with Jasper. They point out the front office, and lead me down a hall where each teacher has their own small space to grade papers and meet with students. I feel a swell of pride knowing that I'm going to have my own little room to myself. It's starting to feel real. I'm really going to be an educator. I might actually have some impact on the kids who go here.

They walk me across campus to my classroom. It's a medium-sized room with a dry erase board on one wall, a window facing out onto some redwood trees, and rows of desks.

Alice and Jasper leave me alone in the classroom. I sit down on the edge of one of the desks and let it all sink in. Even though I won't start actually teaching until January, tomorrow will be my first day on the job. All I have to do is sit in my office for the week, preparing lesson plans, and getting to know students. I'm oddly excited.

When I get home later that afternoon after running a few errands, I check in on The Reader. The house is dark, but both the cars are parked out front. I figure that the police chief must be sleeping, but what of his daughter?

I shuffle into the house and try to forget her. I put my groceries away and sit on my couch. I stare at the blank screen and think about long, thin legs, covered in denim, the slender curve of a neck cloaked in soft brown hair, small hands gripping a book.

I grab the remote and lose myself in the sweet oblivion of trash TV.


	4. Such Stuff as Dreams Were Made On

**Author's Note: The characters and settings of Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. The original content, ideas, and plot lines of this story belong to the author. The events in this story are fictional and any similarities to actual persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Additionally, this story contains subject matter not suitable for minors. Underage drinking, drug use, consensual sex, strong language, abuse, and other adult content may be present in this story. Again, all sex in this story is consensual. If you are under 18 and/or uncomfortable with any of these subjects, please be advised that this story may not be for you.**

Leading Lady

Chapter 4 – Such Stuff as Dreams Were Made On

BELLA.

I puke my guts up for the majority of Saturday evening. The thought of my father going back to Phoenix turns my stomach. I want to be able to protect this man I hardly know from my own mother, and that makes me feel sicker.

As Saturday night becomes Sunday morning, and morning becomes afternoon, I give up my struggle against my own conscience. The control I had so carefully exacted over my thought patterns begins to loosen and slip away from me. I refuse to allow myself to dwell on Phoenix, and in the quiet void left in the absence of those painful thoughts, Mr. Sexy creeps into my mind.

I'm not able to resist my thoughts once they begin to wander to him. I close my eyes and conjure up his image. I can see him perfectly. His copper hair tousled and unruly. His green eyes blinking at me. His strong arms wrapped around me...

And as the sun rises higher in the sky, wrapped warmly in thoughts of him, I can finally sleep.

I spend most of Sunday in bed, trying not to think about my father's upcoming trip. Even though I never even leave the house, I feel totally drained.

I lay on my back all day with my stomach in knots. My insides churn at the thought of my mother and my father being in the same state, much less the same room. The thought of the two of them breathing the same air has me nearly paralyzed.

I get out of bed around 6 PM when I hear Charlie get up. I can hear him banging around in the laundry room and I know my assistance is needed. I find him throwing piles of clothes into the washing machine.

"Hey, Dad," I say, as I lean against the doorframe. My voice is thick with sleep and my eyelids still feel heavy.

"Hey, kid. You just getting up?"

"Yeah, I think I have a stomach bug or something," I lie. "Couldn't sleep."

He continues tossing clothes in the washer. I shove myself off the wall and gently push him aside with the tips of my fingers. I robotically go through the washer, sorting lights and darks, and remove his uniform and set it aside to be taken to the dry cleaners.

The air is heavy with unspoken and unanswerable questions. Charlie goes downstairs to microwave some leftovers for deckfast and I sit on the dryer until the cycle is complete. I take his clean laundry to his bedroom and put it all in a bag. I carry the bag downstairs and leave it near the front door. I can't bear to think about where he's going or what he's planning to wear there, so I think of my neighbor instead.

He is quickly becoming a beautiful escape from a painful reality.

Charlie leaves for the airport after we eat dinner. He pats my head, hands me a couple bucks, tells me to be safe, and leaves. And then I'm alone in the house.

I look out the window towards Mr. Sexy's house until my exhaustion takes hold of me again and I fall back into bed.

It's Monday morning. I'm blotting my face dry over the sink and looking forward to finals when I hear my phone ring.

"Hello?"

"Bella, it's me, Angela."

"Hey, you nervous about the calc final or something?"

"A little. But that's not why I'm calling. Um, I have gossip."

"That doesn't sound like you."

"I know. But this time it's important."

"Let's have it."

"Okay, so you know how Mr. Wilcox bailed?" I wait. "I met his replacement." I wait more. "He's really hot."

Now I'm interested. "Go on, " I say.

"Okay, I was working at the diner and the Whitlocks came in. You know, the librarian and the French teacher?"

"Yes, I know who the Whitlocks are. Talk faster. I don't want to be late."

"Okay, I'll get right to it. Mrs. Whitlock's hot and sexy brother is going to be teaching AP English and Drama Lit next semester! Isn't that amazing?" She uncharacteristically screams into the phone. This guy must be majorly sexilicious, I think.

Interesting. I am in the market for a new AP English teacher - Mrs. Cope's class is quickly becoming the most boring and depressing way to spend an hour in the history of all mankind. If this new teacher dude is into theatre as well, I figure his English class couldn't be that boring. "What does he look like? Describe," I demand.

"He's basically just a super cute, green-eyed hottie with red hair. You'll die." Um, hello? This has to be the same guy. _Shit, she's describing Mr. Sexy._

She's telling me that my neighbor is a teacher. A fucking hot teacher. A teacher and potentially _my_ teacher. For many hours, every day. _Fuck._

I refuse to believe that I should be so lucky as to bask in the presence of this man's hotness for so much of my day. I need more information. I decide to reserve excitement until Angela's story can somehow be corroborated.

I take a deep breath. "I can't wait to meet him," I say cooly. I cannot let on that I am pretty much stalking him, or that he is my neighbor. No one can know about what a weird freak I am, or that I am being a weird freak in such close proximity to Mr. Sexy.

"What did you say his name is?" I ask, as calmly as possible. I'm about to put a name to the face... and the body.

"I didn't. His name is Edward. Edward Cullen," she whispers in a deviant way.

Edward. I like it. A lot.

I leave me counselor's office and walk down the hallway toward Edward's office. I had started calling him that in my head on the drive to school.

_Edward, Edward, Edward, Edward. _

Though I've never met him, I feel strangely familiar with him.

Other teachers are meeting with other students in their respective offices. I can see them through their open doors. My classmates and acquaintances sit opposite their instructors in the harsh morning sunlight, leaning over papers and tests from the past few weeks. I squint.

What I'm doing is nothing out of the usual. It's perfectly normal to approach a staff member before first period.

And yet my heart races so fast that I'm sure if Edward were to look close enough, he'd be able to see it beat right through my blouse.

"Hey. Mister Cullen?" I knock on the doorframe of his office, careful to use his proper, teacherly name. He looks up and I almost trip as I take a step toward him. I've never seen him this close before. I've imagined it, yes, but nothing could have prepared me for the way the corner of his mouth curls up, or how his hair looks in the morning light. Closer is so much better.

I run my hands through my hair, swallow nervously, and try to monitor my heart rate. It's very difficult to walk, speak, and keep control of all my bodily functions at once now that I'm this close to him. I think I might scream or explode.

Instead, I stand quietly and try to breathe.

"Yeah." He closes his book. "Can I help you?"

"Um, yeah. I guess I just wanted to let you know that I'm transferring into your first period class next semester."

His features twist, as though I've just been rude. "Would you like to rephrase that?" His tone is sharp. My heart stops. _What have I done wrong?_ I feel myself flush. _What am I supposed to say to that?_

"I'm sorry. It's just that I had a conflict with my schedule and I have to leave Mrs. Cope's class and switch to yours next semester...?" I roughly unfold my class schedule and point out his name next to the first slot on my schedule: period 1.

He takes the dirty, creased page from me and examines it. He turns a bit red and clears his throat. "Oh. I see. Not your fault. Your counselor is supposed to have you come ask me if that's all right before she makes any changes in my class size."

"Sorry," I say. "I didn't know that." I feel so stupid. I should have known that I needed to ask him if I could be in his class, rather than inform him that I'm going to be there next semester and expect that he'll teach me.

The quiet moment passes like an hour and I briefly consider just running for it. But I'm already here. I have to be in his class - I need to be on so many levels - and I have no choice but to endure this embarrassment and move forward.

"Don't apologize. It's not your fault." He smiles and hands me my paper. "What's your name?" He retrieves a red folder from between a copy of _Hamlet_ and a Billy Collins book. I watch his hands as he pulls out a stack of papers and selects one of them. His long fingers nimbly smooth the sheet out on his desk.

I nearly forget his question.

"My name is Bella," I say slowly.

"Isabella. Swan." He says, running his finger down a list of names, uttering all the syllables so perfectly I almost think to applaud him. My name sounds so good in his mouth. I prefer Bella, but this man could call me Fuckface and I wouldn't mind. "Yep. You're right. First period Advanced English in room 214. I'll see you after the break."

"Okay. Thanks," is all I can think to say.

I turn to leave. I want to stay forever, just to look at him, but I'm also so desperate to get out of his sight. I can't have him see me like this - so red. This whole interaction has been totally mortifying.

"I'm sorry," he whisper-shouts after me. I turn to him again.

"For what?"

"If I was rude before. I'm kind of protective of my class sizes. I'm new to this. Don't want to have my hands too full. I want to be able to give you guys as much attention as I can." All I hear him say is 'protective'. I like that.

"That's okay. Not your fault," I echo, and give him a small smile.

And, just like that, I walk out of his office. I'm so giddy I could scream. I have successfully landed a spot in his class without majorly humiliating myself in the end.

Though I feel pretty dumb that I didn't know about asking permission to switch to his class, I'm utterly relieved that I didn't trip and land with my face in his lap or something.

I shudder to think of it.

I try to keep my cool as I walk to my class. A huge smile begins to spread across my face and I don't want anyone to know how gleeful I am to get to be in his class next semester. That, too, could be embarrassing.

It's amazing how the fates work sometimes. There really is a conflict in my schedule. I have to get out of 3rd period English because next semester I need to be in 3rd period Drama. Luckily, my 1st period Economics class is only one semester long and has just ended. I have an opening. A perfect little opening that can be filled by only one Advanced English class. And it's taught by Mister Edward Cullen.

I walk across campus towards my car, hunched over in my blue plaid coat. The final dismissal bell has just rung and I'm desperate to get home and scream into my pillow.

My father will be coming back from Phoenix in a few days. I need a few hours to scream and flail my arms about in excitement over the days' events before Rosalie comes over to help me set up for the party she insists I throw in honor of his absence.

Charlie flew out to Arizona to finish up some custody paperwork with my mother. Since the domestic dispute between Renee and her boyfriend, Phil, I'd been a ward of the state until my Dad came to claim me. I've been living with him here in Forks since the end of last summer, but Charlie's been so caught up with his work at the police station that several forms were overlooked and unsigned.

It's now mid-December, and with the new year coming, the timing is cut so close that he has to settle things with Renee in person.

He doesn't want me to miss any of my classes, so he agreed to let me stay in Forks. It seems that now that he has custody of my sorry ass, he's going to fully make up for 17 years of absence by parenting me to the extreme. I am more than happy to be left out of the custody battle. Staying alone in an empty house for a few days is nothing new to me, and I would rather not see Renee or Phil at the moment. Besides, with Charlie working the night shifts at the station, I never see him much anyway.

It looks like it might rain and the threat of moisture has me shaking in my boots. Literally. I still haven't quite warmed up to the idea of wet and rainy year round, but climate is a small price to pay to be able to leave Phoenix and the bleak memories behind.

I pass the front office and allow myself one little half-smile at the memory of what transpired that morning.

I'm so enchanted by my own giddiness that I feel like I might leap out of my skin.

"Swan!" I hear a voice bark in my direction.

I jump. Maybe I'll leap out of my skin after all.

I stop and turtle my head out of the collar of my coat. There, sticking his head out of the doorway of his office - catching me in my stupor - he stands. I swallow hard. I thought we'd resolved everything, so what's going on? I don't want to have to deal with this anymore. _Just let me be in your class, Mr. C. Does it have to be so hard?_

For a second I think I might actually cry with frustration. I also think about ducking back into my coat and continuing on as though I haven't heard him. But it's too late. He saw me smile giddily when I passed his office. And he witnessed my features fall when he called my name. It's my turn to say something.

"Hi," is all I can manage.

"Get over here." _Shit, I'm in trouble._ I've already apologized for making the mistake I didn't even know I was making.

"Okay." I shuffle my way to the door, which he holds open. He ushers me in like a gentleman. I can smell his cologne as I pass by. His scent coupled with this unexpected chivalry both confuses and excites me. He urges me down the hall to his office. I walk in front of him and wonder what part of me he's looking at, or if he's even looking at me at all.

_Don't blush, Bella, I think._ "I'm sorry if I caused you any trouble this morning. I didn't mean to bother you... I just thought it'd be polite to introduce myself before -"

"Oh, stop that," he teases, waving one hand in my direction. I mash my lips together in an effort to show him that I'm ready to shut up. "Come on." He shows me over to his desk.

_Jesus, what the fuck is this about?_

"So, guess what?" he asks. I gave him a sarcastic shrug as I drop my book bag as if to say, _how the hell should I know?_

He eyes me sideways. "You and I will be spending a lot of time together this semester."

This guy can be dense. "Hmm?" I hum. I want him to elaborate.

"I took a look at your course schedule after you left this morning. I didn't realize that your third period conflict was that you were taking Drama Lit." He pauses and waits for me to respond. I furrow my brow. "Dramatic Literature? Yeah, I'm teaching that class."

I cough.

"I'm taking Jim's spot while he's on sabbatical this year."

Whoa. This is huge. Angela was right. That girl simply can't lie.

I start to process this information...

Drama Lit is a block class. 3rd and 4th period run into each other... This man will be teaching me for an hour in the morning for AP English and then... for two more hours in the afternoon.

"Cool." I almost can't think about it. In a matter of few hours, I went from admiring this man from afar to being forced to remain in his presence for three hours a day. This is about to be the best semester of my life.

"Yep. I'm no Mr. Wilcox, but I'll do my best." He sounds like he's trying to impress me.

Ah, James Wilcox. Jim. The man who nearly ruined my senior year by choosing to knock up his Italian wife, Victoria, and ditch all of us theatre kids for a villa in the countryside. His absence has left us all deeply bitter.

Wilks, as we affectionately called him, was a total drama god. Not only was he a brilliant teacher and director, but he managed to make every student feel special and accepted, too. The hours I - and countless others - spent poring over scripts and set designs in his 30-year career were considered precious and formative.

But here I am. Sitting across from Mr. C. Is he trying to get to know me? I know he'll never, ever measure up to the legacy that Wilks left behind, but he can try. A little eye candy never hurt anyone.

"I'm sure you'll do just fine," I say, as if I'm placating a child. He laughs.

"Any advice?" he asks sincerely. He actually looks worried, or nervous.

"Nothing springs to mind," I say, jutting out my bottom lip.

"Okay, thanks." He pokes out his bottom lip too. I have to look away before it drives me insane. "Now don't keep Rosalie waiting." He's right; Rose is no doubt leaning against my car at this moment, cursing the impending clouds and my tardiness. _But how does he know that?_

"Oh. Yeah, okay. See you after the break!" I blurt overexcitedly.

"Have a good time and be safe."

"Right," I mutter under my breath.

"I'm serious," he says earnestly, as I stand and make my way to the door.

Rosalie stands next to my truck, her AP Calculus textbook held over her head. I hasten my walk and unlock the truck as fast as I can. Rose sighs happily and hops into the car.

I open the driver's side door, get in, and throw my bag on the floor at Rose's feet. I press my lips together in an effort not to smile in front of her. She'll know immediately that my giddiness is about a boy and she won't stop prying until she has all the details. She's annoying that way. I don't want to have to explain that it's about a _man._

"Did you get the beer yet?"

"Hmm?" I'm contemplating the full meaning of 'man.'

"The beer. For tonight? It's still on, right?" She raises a perfectly arched eyebrow at me.

"Oh yeah. Totally. Um, Emmett's getting it. I have to swing by his place. Do you wanna go?"

"Um, Okay. Sure." She blushes.

"I was thinking that we should get a bottle of vodka and enough beer for a few rounds of beer pong. Do you think that's enough?"

"Yeah. Tell people to bring their own mixer, though."

"Right." I turn the key and the song that we were blasting this morning picks up right where it left off. We abruptly begin singing along at the top of our lungs as we make our way over to Emmett's house.

When we pull up in front of Emmett's house, we spot him smoking a cigarette out front. I watch as Rosalie smoothes her hair down and sneaks a peek at herself in the side-view mirror. I know this girl well enough not to confront her about her obvious crush on this guy. She'll tell me when she's good and ready.

"Hey, Bella. Hey, Rose," Emmett nods at us when we got out of the truck.

Rose blushes. "How's it going, Emmett?"

"So the party really is happening then, huh?" He drops his cigarette in a puddle and walks out to the sidewalk to meet us.

"Yeah, yup. Uh-huh. My dad's out of town, so..."

"So who cares if it's finals week? Let's get trashed, right?" Rosalie finishes my sentence.

"Yeah, man. I mean, that sounds great." They're connecting on such a deep level. "So, what do you need?"

I hand him the cash. "Like, a bottle of vodka - whatever's cheap - and a case of beer."

"Or two," Rose chimes in.

"Alright, ladies. You got it. I'll bring it by, say, 8?"

"Totally." Rose giggles.

"That's sounds good, Emmett. Thanks," I say, and pull Rosalie by the wrist back to the truck. We get inside and I wave a grateful goodbye to Emmett.

"Emmett's so nice to do this for you. Don't you think?" She asks without looking at me.

"Yeah, um, he's cool. A good guy." I gun the engine and drive around the block to Rosalie's place.

"Okay, I'm just going to shower and get ready. I'll come by around 6, okay?"

"Okay, Rosalie. I'll see you then." She smiles back at me and slides out of my truck. For the first time since leaving Edward's presence, I find myself alone. I burst out laughing. I can't control it.

I'm sincerely not looking forward to hosting a party at my father's house tonight, but Rosalie insists that she'll help me clean up afterwards and that it will actually be a good time. What I can't understand is why people even want to come party at my place in the middle of finals week. I have gotten my scariest final out of the way, and am fine with sipping a beer and watching music videos on Charlie's flat screen for an evening. But I know that several of Rosalie's invites will be doing much more than that. Jessica Stanley mentioned something about jello shots earlier.

When I get home, I go straight to my room and flop facedown on my bed. I let an excited moan escape into my pillow before I start laughing again. I'm fucking giddy. It's stupid.

I decide to follow Rosalie's lead and shower myself. I strip down on my way to the bathroom and leave a trail of clothes. I feel free to make a bit of a mess now that I have the house to myself.

I turn on the shower water.

I end up standing in front of the bathroom mirror just looking at my naked body while the water warms up. I wonder if I'm attractive. _Can anyone be interested in me?_ I'm skinny and clumsy, and usually covered in bruises. My chest is okay, but embarrassingly small compared to Rosalie's. I'm pretty enough, but again, next to other girls, I'm plain. I wonder if anyone like Edward will ever be interested in someone like me.

The tub is beginning to get full.

I scrap the shower idea and slip into the bathwater. I lay in the warm water and just think about Edward. There's no point in resisting it anymore. I imagine myself lying against his bare chest in a tub just like this. I think of his arms wrapping around me from behind. His hands running up and down my arms, my chest, my stomach. His lips kissing my neck, whispering in my ear.

I feel my insides tense as I touch myself.

He's holding me, stroking me, kissing me.

I contract around my fingers.

I'm still in my towel when Rosalie arrives.

"Thank god you're not dressed yet. I swear to god, if you were thinking about wearing a v-neck tee, just don't even tell me. I brought you something." She's wearing a pair of jeans that leave very little to the imagination and a silvery tank top. A matching pair of heels explain why she seems about a thousand feet tall.

"Okay, I'm just gonna throw on some sweats to wear while we set up, then you can play dress up with me all you want."

"Good deal."

Rosalie and I spend a good hour moving furniture and locking up anything fragile. When the kitchen table is properly set up for beer pong and all the photos are removed from the mantle, Rose and I go up to my room to get dressed.

"You can wear jeans. I mean, I am, so, yeah. But put this on." She throws something blue and filmy at me.

"Fine, but I'm wearing sneakers."

"If you're going to wear sneakers, you have to wear a thong." She's chastising me.

"And just who do you think wants to see my pale ass in a thong?"

"Do you want me to write down the list, Bella? To start, Jacob is coming."

"Oh god, Rose. No. He's not going to see my... He's just not."

"Maybe not tonight," she wiggles her eyebrows at me. "But he will."

"Whatever, Rosalie. Okay."

The doorbell rings. Rosalie bites her lip and looks at me. I nod and she runs down the stairs to get the booze from Emmett. I get dressed. I wear a thong, not because I want Jacob - or anyone at the party - to see it, but because I know Rose will be up my ass (no pun intended) all night if she finds out I go against her wishes. I put on my favorite pair of blue jeans, and pull the shirt Rosalie gave me over my head. I can't wear a bra with the thing, which is fine. I don't have much boobage to jiggle around anyway.

I run my hands through my hair and walk down the stairs.

"Damn, Bella! You clean up good," Emmett says, and cracks a can of beer open. Rosalie shoots him a look he doesn't quite catch, and then looks at me. Her lips are pursed.

"Bella, you need mascara. And don't come back down until you've put it on."

I leave the two of them alone in the kitchen to... whatever, and just do as Rose tells me. The guests will be arriving soon and I'm not really looking forward to greeting people at the door all night.

I put on a little makeup and then sit on my bed for a few minutes, just to steel myself for a night of inevitable torture. This house will soon be full of loud, awkward, and messy teenagers. All I really want to do is think about Edward. Tonight is sure to get uncomfortable.

I can hear more and more voices downstairs and I begin to worry that if I don't make an appearance soon, people will forget that this is even my house. I take a deep breath and walk out of my room.

"Bella!" about a thousand people boom at me as soon as I hit the first floor. I walk straight through the crowed towards the beer.

I'm definitely going to need a drink.


	5. Farewell to All My Greatness

**Author's Note: The characters and settings of Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. The original content, ideas, and plot lines of this story belong to the author. The events in this story are fictional and any similarities to actual persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Additionally, this story contains subject matter not suitable for minors. Underage drinking, drug use, consensual sex, strong language, abuse, and other adult content may be present in this story. Again, all sex in this story is consensual. If you are under 18 and/or uncomfortable with any of these subjects, please be advised that this story may not be for you.**

**This chapter goes out to EdwardsVenom. Happy Birthday, girlie!**

**Thanks as always to my beta, C Shell. I'm awkward, or don't you know? ;)**

Leading Lady

Chapter 5 - Farewell to All My Greatness

EDWARD.

I sit my to-go coffee down on my desk and flick on the light to my office. It's pretty sparse-looking in there. There isn't much more in here than four walls, a window, and a desk with a decrepit computer on it. The walls are beige and the metal desk is a sad shade of grey. I can see the dust gathering on the computer's keyboard.

I pull the desk drawers open. Empty.

I take Jim's old lesson plans out from under my arm and file them away. I put my briefcase down on the rickety chair and pull some books out of it. I place the stack neatly on the desk and sit down.

I quickly resolve to buy a new chair for this damn place as soon as possible. This chair is uncomfortable as fuck and makes some pretty awful noises when I sit in it. They sound like a threat. I will also have to bring my collection of Ophelia posters in here. Brighten up the place a bit.

It's altogether too early to deal with anything serious like lesson plans, so I sip my coffee and rock in my squeaky chair while I watch other teachers file into their offices. A few of them pop their heads in my door to welcome me to Forks. They introduce themselves but I'm too tired or too lazy to remember anyone's name at the moment. I'll have Alice give me the rundown later.

Around 7:30, students start wandering in. I know the first final is set to begin at 8:15 and figure that this is one of their last chances to kiss ass before the guillotine comes down sharp on their unprepared little necks.

I can't bear to watch the parade of panic as it passes in front of my office door, so I pull a book off the top of my stack. It's Sharon Olds' "Gold Cell," and I flip open to a random page. She can get a little pornographic and/or gross, and sometimes it can be a bit much - especially first thing in the morning. But I guess that's why I like her so much. I choose a poem a little more than halfway through the book: Topography. It's pretty tame for her.

I lean back in my chair and cup the book in my hands. I kick my feet up on the desk.

_After we flew across the country we_

_got into bed, laid our bodies_

_delicately together, like maps laid_

_face to face, East to West, my_

_San Francisco against your New York, your_

_Fire Island against my Sonoma, my_

_New Orleans deep in your Texas, your Idaho_

_bright on my Great Lakes, my Kansas_

_burning against your Kansas your Kansas_

_burning against my Kansas, your Eastern_

_Standard Time pressing into my_

_Pacific Time, my Mountain Time_

_beating against your Central Time, your_

_sun rising swiftly from the right my_

_sun rising swiftly from the left your_

_moon rising slowly from the left my_

_moon rising slowly from the right until_

_all four bodies of the sky_

_burn above us, sealing us together,_

_all our cities twin cities,_

_all our states united, one_

_nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all._

I put the book down on my desk and lean over it to read it again.

As my eyes pass over the first few lines again, I feel a quiet presence in my office.

"Hey, Mister Cullen?" The soft voice says it like a question. I look up.

I almost can't believe my eyes. There, in the doorway of my small office, stands The Reader. She's picking at her fingers and avoiding eye contact. She's nervous and it's fucking adorable.

She's wearing this plaid coat and these boots that come up over her knees. Her hands are kneading each other and she's taking shallow, labored breaths. My first thought is that she's a student of Mr. Wilcox's and she, too, is awaiting the guillotine. Perhaps she's come to throw herself on my mercy in an effort to raise her grade.

I'd be happy to give her an A just for looking so completely fuckable before 8 in the morning.

_Shut the fuck up, Cullen, she's a goddamn student. You're a pervert,_ I scold myself.

I close my book and try to focus. "Yeah, can I help you?" Keep your eyes on her face, keep your eyes on her face.

She shifts her weight uncomfortably. "Um, yeah. I guess I just wanted to let you know that I'm transferring into your first period class next semester."

I choke. _What? No, that is not possible. I can't teach this girl. I can't have her in my class. Fuck. I jack off to her, for Christ's sake!_

"Would you like to rephrase that?" I ask sharply and watch her features fall. _Aw, now you've hurt her feelings, you jackass._

She thrusts a crinkled, worn paper at me and weakly says, "I'm sorry. It's just that I had a conflict with my schedule and I have to leave Mrs. Cope's class and switch to yours next semester...?" Again, it seems like a question.

The awkward tension is beginning to mount. I'm not sure if my tiny office can handle this amount of energy. Not to mention the fact that the way her deep brown eyes are peering at me is starting to make me hard. I don't have the energy to be disgusted with myself.

I accept the limp piece of paper and examine it. _Shit, she's right. A little warning would have been nice._ I clear my throat. I have to try to be nice here, make up for hurting her feelings before.

"Oh. I see. Not your fault. Your counselor is supposed to have you come ask me if that's all right before she makes any changes in my class size." It is a lame excuse for my rudeness, but it seems possible.

She hangs her head and her shoulders slump. "Sorry, I, uh, I didn't know that." Did I fuck up again? _Recover, Cullen, recover._ As much as I know that having this girl in my class will be excruciating at worst and awkward at best, I can't deny that getting to share a room with her every morning is tempting.

It gets quiet. She's still waiting, brows furrowed, for my response. "Don't apologize," I say, hoping that my tone is gentle. "It's not your fault." I want to stroke her cheek and tell her I'm sorry for making her worry. I smile and look at her. The damage doesn't seem too catastrophic. I hand back her schedule.

I want so badly to brush my fingers against hers as we exchange the paper, but I know I'm never to touch a student in any way, so I'm careful to keep my hands to myself. "What's your name?" I ask, and take out a folder containing the class lists for all my sections that I'd printed off this morning.

I select my first period English list and lay it out on my desk. I look up at her. She stoically blinks at me before slowly replying, "My name is Bella."

I find her on my list. She is second. "Isabella Swan. Yep. You're right. First period Advanced English in room 214. I'll see you after the break."

_And, when I say 'break,' I mean tonight, because I know I'll be spying on you sooner or later._

"Okay. Thanks," she mutters and turns away. I'm surprised to see her scurrying away from me so quickly. I'm not ready for her to leave.

"I'm sorry!" I whisper-shout at her, careful to be quiet enough not to draw the attention of those around us.

She whips her head around. "For what?"

"If I was rude before. I'm kind of protective of my class sizes. I'm new to this. Don't want to have my hands too full. I want to give you... guys as much attention as I can." I'm really going to have to watch myself. It's very likely that I'm going to start spouting shit that I would not be prepared to back up.

"That's okay. Not your fault," she says with a half-smile and a blush.

And without any further warning, she whips back around and marches out of my office, her ponytail swinging as she turns. I can't help but take one furtive peek at her ass as she walks away from me. She's so cute, so... sexy, really. I have to finally admit it to myself: I'm hot for one of my students and it is so, so wrong.

Suddenly, 8 a.m. Monday through Friday is my favorite time of day.

I hold office hours for the rest of the day. It seems like every female student at Forks High comes in to welcome me to her town. They are all smiles and fucking giggles and elbows on my desk and eyelashes blinking in my face. One girl - Jessica, I think is her name - goes so far as to 'accidentally' drop her pen near my desk. I should write her up for a dress code violation. It's disgusting.

When the lunch bell rings, Alice comes to my office and drags me to the staff lounge. She sits me down at a table with Mrs. Cope, Mr. Banner, Jasper, and a coach of some kind who doesn't seem to posses the ability to speak.

I haven't packed a lunch as I had planned on darting out of there to snag another one of those amazing club sandwiches from the diner. What can I say? I'm a sucker for bacon.

I get up to pour a cup of coffee for myself and when I get back Alice has practically laid out a fucking buffet at the lunch table. I sit down and stuff a dainty little cucumber sandwich in my mouth. "Mhmmm," I groan, and reached for another... handful.

Alice slaps my hand. "Jeez, Edward, take it easy! I cut the crusts off of those. They should be treated with respect." She's always ribbing me about something.

I swallow my sandwich as politely as I can manage and take a swig of my coffee. "Sorry, Alice. It's been a busy morning." She leers at me as if to say, _yeah, right. _"Thanks for bring me lunch. I do appreciate it," I offer.

"So," the silent-until-now coach butts in, "you got a girlfriend or something? Why come all the way out to Forks to teach? Who are you chasing?"

"I, um, no. I'm not chasing anyone." That's a lie and I know it. "I mean, I don't have a girlfriend." Yet.

I pause for a moment to scold myself. There's a fantasy brewing in my head, one I have even fully admitted to myself exists. It's there and it shouldn't be. I imagine myself with Bella. I picture my future and - consciously or unconsciously - Bella's in it. When I think of a lazy Sunday, I see Bella napping on my couch with her head in my lap as I grade papers. If I picture Christmas, I see her in a red cap and scarf throwing snowballs at me and kissing my nose in the snow. When I think of having children, I see little Bellas running around on my front lawn, their chestnut hair catching glints off the setting sun.

I'm sick. I'm completely sick. That much I can admit to myself.

I don't know this girl. I've spoken to her all of once. I only laid eyes on her a few days ago... She's my student, and I'm not sure, but she's probably underage.

And yet, she's in me; she's gotten under my skin.

I clear my throat and try not to look like the sad fucker I feel like. "Yeah, nothing keeping me here but my sister," I conclude, and throw my arm around her shoulder. I'm ready to rough up her hair a little bit to prove how jovial, fun and relaxed I am, but then I remember I'm not in the 10th grade anymore and I have to at least pretend to be an adult now. Besides, I'd probably get a swift kick to the nuts for getting close to Alice's perfectly coiffed little head.

And this thought only makes me wish that I were in high school again. High school for me had been relatively miserable, as I'm sure it is for all theatre nerds. I don't want to go back to that, but I wish I could be seventeen again. Then, maybe it'd be okay to leave note on Bella's windshield or hang out in front of her locker.

Maybe I was born at the wrong time.

"Yeah, well, I hope you're enjoying the rain." Mr. Banner pipes in, "you'd better get used to it."

"Yeah, it's alright. A little moisture can't hurt me." And then my own words make me stiffen in my pants, because I'm now thinking of things that are wet and one thing in particular that I'd like to make wet.

"Well, if you're ever looking for a little distraction from the... weather around here," the coach slurs, "I've got just the remedy." I'm not exactly sure what he's talking about so I take a bite out of another sandwich and hmm in his direction.

"Yeah," he continues, sleaze oozing from him, "I got this great girl. She can really take your mind off things. Jane's her name."

"Okay, careful now. We've got ladies at the table," Jasper asserts. "I don't think this is polite table-talk."

Alice and I shoot a relieved look at each other and the table goes quiet. We all eat the rest of our lunches in silence, but every time I look up at the coach, he's wagging his eyebrows at me or making obscene gestures. I'm usually down for a good pornographic joke, but I feel this odd, nagging guilt in my chest even thinking about being with a woman.

Plus, I justify to myself, this is a small town and who knows what percentage of the population this Jane has slept with? Better if she keep her germs away from me.

We finish eating and I clean up our table. On the way to the trashcan I catch a glimpse of Bella out of the lounge window. She's talking to a blonde girl and for a second I feel a painful spike of envy, before I push that feeling aside and mentally check myself.

"Just meet me at my truck," I watch rather than hear Bella say to the girl.

The blonde is a bit louder. "If it rains you're paying to have my highlights redone," she barks at Bella. Bella cracks a smile and rolls her eyes. They both start laughing and part ways. I can watch Bella shake her head and pick at her nails as she makes her way past the front office and toward the computer lab.

I'm sitting in my office during the post-lunch final period, continuing to read the Olds book, when the blonde from before pokes her head in my office.

"Hey, can I come in?" she asks in a sort of fake and overly-polite way.

"Sure, come in. Have a seat." I gesture at the awful chair across from my desk.

She sits. "Just wanted to introduce myself. I'm Rosalie." She smiles. Two rows of chemically whitened teeth almost blind me. "I wanted to make sure that I got a chance to talk to you before next semester."

"Well, I'm glad you came in then, Rosalie. I'm Mr. Cullen. Feel free to call me Edward."

"Whatever," she rolls her eyes. "Look, I'm fully aware that you're teaching Drama Lit, which means that you'll undoubtedly be directing the spring play."

"Yes, I'll be helping with the show, but as I'm sure you know, Mrs. Meyer will be the head director. Since I'm new, the choir teacher will be handling most of the drama responsibilities."

"Right, Mr. Cullen," she says, completely ignoring my previous offer. "But listen - I know you have pull if you wanna use it, so let me give this to you straight. I'm the best actress there is at this school, and I had things all lined up to be the lead in the spring show before Mr. Wilcox left. And I'm not going to lose it just because some new guy pulled into town. Okay?"

"Rosalie, you should know that even if I had a say in casting, I would only go by what I saw in the audition room. If you give the best audition, you'll get the part that you want, but it has to be fair. If someone does it better than you, they could get it."

"Don't get snarky with me, mister," she snaps. "Whatever. Bella's probably waiting for me in the parking lot, so I have to get going. Better things to do than sit around high school all day." She rolls her eyes as she says 'high school,' as if this place is the stupidest, most inane place to be since the history of hanging out.

"School's not out for another half an hour, Rosalie." I glance at my wristwatch. "Your friend, whoever she is, is likely still in class." I try to cover myself, but probably fail.

"I will have that part, Mr. Cullen. I will." She exhales sharply and pushes the chair away from the desk. It makes a horrible grating sound as it slides across the linoleum floor. I shut my eyes and breathe deeply.

"Nice meeting you, Rosalie. I look forward to working with you." She doesn't seem to hear me as she storms out of my office. I catch a glimpse of a pack of cigarettes being pulled from her purse and I can't help but chuckle. No choir teacher will ever give the lead to a girl who smokes. _Never going to happen for you, Rosalie. Sorry._

Knowing that Bella's on campus still makes me wonder where exactly she is. I look out the window behind my desk and hope that she's wandering aimlessly and I can see her. The window faces out and mostly onto another building, but if I press my left cheek to the glass I can see about a quarter of the quad. There are a couple kids sitting on the benches out there, enjoying a brief rain-free moment.

I remember that I'd seen her making her way toward the computer lab earlier, so I bend my neck in the other direction. I can see the edge of the computer building but not much else. I extricate my face from the window before I start looking like a full-blown peeping Tom.

Bella is in the computer lab. Rosalie is waiting for her in the parking lot. There's a direct path from one to the other that passes right by the door to the front office. I'll at least get to see her before she leaves campus.

My stomach tightens at the thought of seeing her walk by in those fucking cute boots of hers. I can't help it, but I'm excited. And I'm curious.

I turn on the old computer at my desk. It takes a minute for it to boot up and I start to feel really anxious. I feel like some sort of deviant, which I guess I am considering what I'm about to do.

When the computer is finally ready, I log into the school server and search the last name 'Swan.'

It isn't hard to find Bella's schedule in the school's database. I can see from her schedule that she is currently in her computer arts final. I can't imagine what a computer arts class entails, much less what a test on that subject possibly includes. Seems like a free ride to me. But that isn't the point.

I start snooping around in her file. It appears that she is new to Forks High School, as her schedule doesn't go further past this semester. Her previous address is somewhere in Phoenix, Arizona. Her grades are really good, and except for a slight dip mid-semester in calculus, she seems to be doing really well.

I'm slightly surprised to see that she is taking the Shakespeare in Performance class. A drama girl. I didn't take her for one. She seemed... shy? She is nothing like Rosalie, who has the balls to march into my office my first day here and try to strong-arm me into giving her the lead role in a play I don't even know the title of.

Bella seems sweet. But I'm curious as to what kind of shenanigans she can get into under the guise of acting. I try not to think about it. I am at my job after all.

I look at her schedule for the upcoming semester and my suspicions are confirmed. She is going to be in Dramatic Literature. My class. Damn, I'm one lucky teacher. But this also means that I'm fucked.

The bell rings and jolts me out of my reverie. I have to prepare myself for Bella's walk by. I decide that I want to say hi. And maybe apologize for the weirdness this morning. I know I can't ask this girl out or anything, but I want her to like me. Or at least not hate me.

Bella is walking by the office on the way to the lot, just as I'd expected her to. She sort of tucks herself into her coat and bends her head towards the ground.

I rest my hand on the doorknob and lean my head out. "Swan!" I shout at her. Perhaps I'm too harsh or loud because she jumps a little and her head snaps up.

She stops in her tracks and turns her head just the slightest amount as though she's afraid to see who is yelling her name at 3:10 on a Monday afternoon. I watch as her throat bobs a little. _Did she just roll her eyes?_

She is frozen for a second with her brows furrowed, her face a mask of what looks like guilt.

"Hi," she squeaks. Is she scared of me?

Time to make it up to her. "Get over here." I try to be friendly and jovial. But it comes out a bit like a command. I'm really messing up here.

"Okay," she mutters and drags her feet on the way over to the door I'm holding open. I sweep my arm as if to say ladies first. When she passes me, the very tip of the shoulder of her coat brushes against my chest. I shut my eyes for a second and tried to think about dead puppies or tampons or something to distract from how close this adorable little being is to me. I hadn't realized how tiny she is until now. She walks in front of me and it's all I can do not to reach out and pinch her ass or wrap my hand around that long ponytail of hers.

She's silent on the walk down to my office, but once we get inside she hovers by the chair, waiting for permission to sit. She starts to apologize again. "I'm sorry if I caused you any trouble this morning. I didn't mean to bother you... I just thought it'd be polite to introduce myself before -"

"Oh, stop that," I hush her with a wave of my hand. She presses her lips together and furrows her brow. I guess she's trying to hold her tongue or something. I had basically just told her to shut it. Nothing I say seems to sit well with this girl. All I want to do was impress the shit out of her with my kindness and gentlemanly ways, but I'm failing.

"Come on." I gesture at the chair in front of my desk. She looks worried, but sits anyway. Maybe she thinks she's getting in trouble. It's not like this is the principals office. I start to feel really bad about this whole scene. I shouldn't have asked her in here. But when I saw her walking across campus like that... I couldn't not ask her into my office. I just need to see her, to tell her I'm... I don't know. Fuck, excited?

"So, guess what?" I'm practically beaming. I'm pretty anxious to see her face when I tell her I'm teaching Dramatic Literature. Hopefully it goes over well after this morning's incident. Maybe she doesn't even like me as a teacher and is being forced into my class by no will of her own and is completely dreading the whole thing. I don't know.

She raises her shoulders and then lets them fall with a sarcastic huff. She isn't pleased with me. I should just get on with it and let her go on her merry way. No doubt Rosalie is pissed that Bella's running late to meet her.

"You and I will be spending a lot of time together this semester."

"Hmm?" Apparently when she locked her lips, she threw away the key. I'd be lucky to ever hear her speak again. What a tragedy. Her voice is so sweet.

"I took a look at your course schedule after you left this morning." Lie. "I didn't realize that your third period conflict was that you were taking Drama Lit." I paused. She looked at me incredulously. Maybe she didn't know what 'Drama Lit' meant. "Dramatic Literature? Yeah, I'm teaching that class."

She coughs. Maybe the Washington weather is giving her a cold. She certainly isn't used to being so wet all the time. I mean, the climate is different than in Phoenix.

Before I can continue that train of thought, I pull my thoughts together and keep talking. "I'm taking Jim's spot while he's on sabbatical this year."

She just sort of stares at me. A good minute passes. I don't know what to say. She hates me, I can tell. She won't even talk, but I have nothing more to say on the topic and I don't want to torture her with information from my lectures when she will already in for that next semester. I probably should just say, "that'll be all, Ms. Swan. Thanks for coming in." I open my mouth to say just that when she speaks.

"Cool," she murmurs. She nods her head a bit in what looks like approval, but I can't be too sure. I know a lot of students aren't too pleased with Jim's leaving and they'll be looking to me as a replacement. I don't want her thinking that I'm trying to do that, but I don't want her thinking I'm not going to try to gain the respect of the students either.

"Yep. I'm no Mr. Wilcox, but I'll do my best," I boast. I try to sound confident, but I'm not sure if it comes across that way.

"I'm sure you'll do just fine," she reassures me. Like I'm a fucking baby or something. It's cute. I can't repress the chuckle that bubbles in my chest. It's like she's flirting. Shit, could she really be flirting? _Flirt back, Cullen. No, don't. That's probably illegal._

"Any advice?" is all I can come up with. Good one, Edward. Real sexy. But I'm a little concerned, and maybe this girl has some insight into the situation.

She pouts her lips before she replies. "Nothing springs to mind," she says Her lips are glossy and pink and I want so badly to lean across my desk and just kiss them. But what I want to do is exactly what I should absolutely never ever do. So I sit on my hands and force myself not to move.

"Okay, thanks." I say, and realize that I'm pouting as well. I must look like a child who doesn't get his way. Only what I want is to get close to Bella, not listen to her advice about teaching high school drama. I have to suck my lip back in and say something before this turns into a pouting contest. "Now don't keep Rosalie waiting."

_Fuck, now she thinks I'm a stalker._

She jumps up and grabs her bag. "Oh. Yeah, okay. See you after the break!"

I know what goes on over high school breaks, be they winter or spring. And I'm sure that even the police chief's daughter has her way of getting into trouble. I cringe. "Have a good time and be safe."

"Right," she mutters disgustedly. Who am I to be giving advice, anyway?

"I'm serious," I say, and raise an eyebrow at her. I'm a little worried. Rosalie appears to be her friend and I know that girl can be a handful.

I pack up my things and grab my briefcase. By the time I get to the parking lot, it's completely vacated. Damn, these kids are desperate to get the fuck off of campus. It's looking like it's about to rain, so I hurry over to my car and start my drive home.

I realize that I haven't called home yet. I've been here for four days and no doubt Esme is about to shit a brick. At the same time, I figure that if she really wanted to talk to me, she could call. But Carlisle has probably been telling her that I'm a grown up and that I'll call when I want to, and to leave me alone. This is why I love my father. He's pretty relaxed and understanding about things.

I notice as I pull into my driveway that neither car is parked at the house across the street. Usually the cruiser sits out front all day... and I wonder where Bella's red truck is.

When I get inside, I throw my briefcase down by the door and kick off those stupid dress shoes I have to wear Monday through Thursday. I can't wait for Friday when I can wear my Converse.

I flop down on the couch and pull my phone out of my pocket. I dial my parents' home number and secretly kind of wish that they aren't at home and that it'll go to voicemail, so I can avoid the fucking Spanish Inquisition. But she picks up on the second ring.

"Edward! I'm so glad you finally called!" She answers excitedly, but her tone changes quickly. "What took you so long?"

"Hey Mom. Sorry, I was busy with moving in and I didn't want to call until I was settled and I actually had news to share."

"Well, is everything okay? How's the house? Have you made any friends? Is the school alright? How are the other teachers? What about the students?" Like I said, Spanish Inquisition. I make an attempt to answer each question, but am cut off by the next before I have a chance to form a coherent sentence. I know from experience that it's best to wait for the tirade to end before attempting any kind of response.

"Yeah, Mom. Everything's great here," and by 'everything' I mean the set of legs on my underage student neighbor, but no matter. "The house Alice picked is really nice. The school is being very helpful and accommodating and I'm really looking forward to next semester. So, yeah, things are good."

This seems to tame her a bit. We chit chat, as she puts it, for a little while longer. I can hear her banging around pots and pans, which makes me really miss her cooking. My stomach growls.

She wants me to come back home for the holidays, but seeing as I just got here, it seems stupid to turn right back around and go back to Chicago just to celebrate a holiday no one in our family really believes in. She tempts me with the promise of a king crab dinner, but I resist. Besides, Alice is having her first Christmas as a married woman here in Forks and I really don't want to miss the free show that'll be her trying to prepare a Christmas ham all by herself.

I ask to talk to my father but in true Carlisle fashion, he isn't home. He's working a double at the hospital. Surprise, surprise. I scratch my belly absently as she rambles about how she's practically a single woman in their marriage and how lonely it is being a mother with no children. Doesn't make much sense to me, but I placate her by saying, 'I love you, Mom,' and she seems to be okay. I let her go so she can fix dinner for her 'loving but absent husband.' I hang up the phone and toss it on the coffee table.

Talking to her wasn't so bad. But sooner or later she's going to see right through me like she always does and I'm likely to crack under her motherly pressure and tell her that I'm in love with Bella.

Whoa, shit. Did I actually just think that? Uh, obviously, that's not true because I don't even know her. I'm just obsessed with her... cuteness. Intrigued. That's it.

I listen for her car, but hear nothing. I start to get a bit worried because her father's not home and she could be out doing drugs or contracting STDs, or taking shots though her eye sockets. I don't know what kind of trouble is common for teenagers to get into these days, but I'm sure that Bella's capable of it. Especially under Rosalie's influence.

I start pacing around my living room anxiously. I can't believe how worked up I'm getting over the lack of Bella's car in a driveway, but I can't help it. I worry about that girl.

I'm about to hop in my car and pretend to run errands around town in an effort to be sure she isn't lying in a ditch somewhere when I finally catch a flash of red through the window. A wave of relief rolls through me. Or is that a wave of desire?

Bella looks happy... even giddy. She scurries up the walk and slips in the front door. I feel much better now that she's home. I can relax now. I walk around my empty house aimlessly. It still doesn't feel like home, but I figure it will soon. It's just so echo-y. I don't like it.

I end up lying on my bed with my face smushed in the pillow. This feels a bit more familiar than the hollow coldness of the rest of the house. I decide a nap is in order. I have nothing to do tonight and I feel I might as well take advantage of the downtime while it lasted. Grading papers is guaranteed to cut into my napping time.

I pull off my sweater and kick off my pants. Wearing just my boxers and a tee shirt, I snuggle down into my warm and inviting bed. I'm tired, but I can't seem to fall asleep immediately. My thoughts are with Bella. They are always with Bella. I wonder why she was so giddy. I remember her deep chocolate eyes as they looked into mine this morning. I picture all the faces she made today; her smirk, her smile, the roll of her eyes.

It isn't long before I'm imagining her wearing those boots she wore today... and only those boots. There's only one solution for the rock-hard erection I'm sporting. I reach into my boxers and grab my shaft. I let out an uninhibited groan as I pump my hand over myself.

I keep thinking of Bella naked, her hair masking her nipples as she rides on top of me. The boots are still on. I imagine reaching up and running a finger along her cheek... and without warning, I explode all over my hand and stomach. Jesus, just from thinking about touching her face. Get a grip, Cullen.

I don't really give a fuck, so I wipe myself off and fall asleep.

I'm woken up by the sound of a car coming to a screeching halt on the street outside. I get out of bed and throw a fresh pair of boxers on. When I get to the window, I see a bulky-looking kid pulling a case of beer and a bottle of alcohol out of the back of a Jeep. He walks straight up to Bella's front door. This can mean only one thing: a party.

For a second I think I should call the cops, or at least notify the principal or something. But I know from experience that getting in trouble won't necessarily stop the kinds from drinking. And it's not like they're on campus. I have no pull outside the classroom.

Instead, I decide to set up a chair by the downstairs window and watch. This way if something happens, I'll know about it right away and I'll be able to help.

I turn all the lights out, so that the partying kids can't see me watching them through my window. I'm a creepy motherfucker, but at least I have good intentions. I grab a beer and a bag of chips and set up my watch. Just as I'm sitting down for what I hope will only turn out to be a free show and not a rescue mission, the thrum of a stereo blaring loud hip hop vibrates my chair.

It occurs to me that it's a school night. It looks like about 50 cars are parked along the street. I'm going to have a free show of hungover students in their finals tomorrow. I can't wait to see them dragging their tired, aching selves into class tomorrow.

I figure that if this party is taking place, the chief must be out of town. I guess if there's an opportunity to party, it doesn't matter if it's a school night in the beginning of finals week. Can't really say that I would have resisted an empty house in high school myself.

The scene appears to be tame for the most part. I can see some dancing and drinking going on, but not much else. I'm not sure what I expect to see, really. I'm also unsure of how I'd recognize a problem, much less what I would actually do in that case, but I continue to sip my beer, eat my chips and watch.

It's really pretty boring and I'm thinking about just going to bed or watching TV, but I'm scared that the second I leave my perch, something massively horrible will happen and I won't be able to help.

The front door pops open and the beer delivery kid steps out and lights up a cigarette. Before he can even take a drag, the door opens again and Rosalie tromps out in a pair of ridiculous heels. She pretends to trip and he catches her with the giant hand that isn't holding the cigarette. She hurls herself at his face and they start making out. I look away for a second because it's really painful to look at and I feel a little bit like a pedophile peeking in on these kids making out. But then I worry that this oversized dude is going to take advantage of Rosalie in her drunken state.

When I look back, she's puking off the edge of the porch into the bushes, and the guy is holding her hair back. I have to give it to him - when I was 17, I wouldn't have touched a barfing chick with a ten-foot pole. Either he really cares about her, or he's hoping he'll get laid tonight anyway. Maybe both.

The front door opens again and Bella stomps out, looking fucking adorable in some sort of loose blue top. She also looks a bit protective. She bumps the big guy out of the way with her hip and takes Rosalie's hair into her own hands. I can't hear what she's saying to the guy, but it looks like she's assuring him that she's got it taken care of.

He throws his cigarette into the grass and walks back inside. Bella rubs Rosalie's back for a little while and talks in her ear. Droves of teenagers pour out of Bella's front door as the big guy herds people along with his giant arms. It appears the party is over. Bella only waves at one person as all the kids file out of the house and towards their cars. He's a pretty big guy himself, but he's tanner... and more awkward.

When the parade of drunken teens finally dissipates, Bella ushers Rosalie back into the house. I watch as all the lights go out, one by one. The last light that remains on is the one in Bella's room. I can just make out the two figures. It looks like Bella is laying Rosalie down on her bed and removing her heels. She shakes out her bedspread - it's purple, that's cool - and tucks Rosalie in.

A few minutes later, Bella steps out onto the porch again. She bends down to pick up the discarded cigarette and squints in my direction. I fall off my chair. Shit, did she just see me? I look back at her and she's walking back into the house like nothing's wrong. I figure I'm off the hook.

I can see her through the first floor window as she moves about the house collecting beer cans and red Solo cups. I want to go over there and give her a hand, but I know I can't. Though our neighborly relationship has been acknowledged via hand wave, we didn't speak about it this morning and I'm pretty sure it'll start to get weird sooner or later.

I just feel bad that she's cleaning up all by herself while Rosalie's passed out upstairs. Especially since I'm pretty sure this whole party was her idea.

I figure that all is safe at this point and I head off to bed. I fall asleep wondering what kind of panties Bella was sporting under those tight jeans. And whether or not she was wearing a bra.

The rest of the week passes uneventfully. I meet with more students, track Bella's movements around campus, and eat lunch with Alice and Jasper every day.

The energy on campus on Friday is intense. Finals are coming to an end and the first taste of freedom since summer is palpable. I even start to get excited about having almost two weeks off all at once, until I realize that I just started here and it hasn't been that long since I had some time off. I'll probably also be giving the pre-sent lesson plans a pretty intense review over the next couple of weeks.

Alice insists that I come over for Christmas and I don't fight her because, really, where else do I have to go?

I guess this means I have to get her a present. This task will probably be more difficult than keeping my hands out of my pants, but I can always try.


	6. My Soul's Idol

**Author's Note: The characters and settings of Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. The original content, ideas, and plot lines of this story belong to the author. The events in this story are fictional and any similarities to actual persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Additionally, this story contains subject matter not suitable for minors. Underage drinking, drug use, consensual sex, strong language, abuse, and other adult content may be present in this story. Again, all sex in this story is consensual. If you are under 18 and/or uncomfortable with any of these subjects, please be advised that this story may not be for you.**

**From this chapter forward, new posts will go up Monday evenings. Mark your calendars. ;)**

**Thanks be to C. She puts me in my place.**

Leading Lady

Chapter 6 - My Soul's Idol

BELLA.

Jacob apparently gets a bit handsy when he's had a few drinks. He's already very touchy-feely with me when he's sober, but he's far more aggressive tonight.

He'd arrived around 10 with his friends Embry and Quil, and the 3 of them are now dominating at beer pong, practically taking up the whole kitchen. After a few rounds of beer pong and a couple of Jessica's jello shots, Jacob - and myself, I confess - is sufficiently drunk.

Rose is off chasing Emmett and as soon as Embry and Quil go out back to smoke a joint, I'm left alone in the kitchen with Jake - well, as alone as one can be at a crowded house party. I'm leaning against the kitchen counter and contemplating making some toast when I feel Jacob's large, warm hand in mine. I'm too drunk to remind him that I don't feel that way about him and I just let his hand stay there. It would require too much energy to push him away so I just slur a hello at him and carry on with standing there.

After a few minutes of what would have been awkward silence, Jacob starts dragging me towards the living room where a few people have started dancing. Jessica has Mike Newton cornered and is flipping her hair at him and whipping him in the face with it. He does not seem pleased. Angela and Eric are in a group of people I vaguely recognize. They seem to be on the verge of actually dancing with each other. Ang smiles at me before giving Jacob a furtive and wary glance. I shrug. What harm is there in dancing? It seems innocent enough.

But when Jacob grabs my hips and starts grinding his crotch into my ass, I suddenly have the dying urge to see how Rose is doing. "I'm going to check on Rose," I shout at Jacob. I know I'm a coward and I should just tell him to keep his filthy paws off me, but I just can't.

I rush around house trying to find her. I need to tell her what Jake just did. And I need her to laugh at it. I can't find her anywhere inside, but I catch a glimpse of her through the front window. She's pushing Emmett off her. I thought she liked him. Whatever.

When I get out there, Rose is barfing into the bushes and Emmett's doing a shitty job of holding her hair back. I nudge him out of the way like I do to Charlie when he's doing a shitty job at something. "I got it, Emmett," I say. "You must be really repulsive." I'm joking but I don't think he gets that.

"Hey, she kissed me," he mutters, and throws his cigarette into the grass. "You want me to break up this party?" he asks, and I nod.

Pretty soon after that I find my face hitting pillows on the couch and I'm out for the night.

The sound of my phone alarm wakes me out of my fitful slumber. I groan and feel around in the crevice of the couch in a vain effort to shut the thing off. By the time I find it, I'm awake enough that I don't even have to hit snooze.

I have to admit to myself that last night was pretty epic. At least for Rose, who is undoubtedly still out cold in my bed upstairs. I'm still wearing the top she forced me into last night. My jeans are in a pile on the floor next to my shoes. I drunkenly threw them off before I face planted into the couch last night. The place is decently clean – I'd made sure of that.

I swing my legs over the edge of the couch and try to sit up. Ugh, I'm hungover. My head throbs a little and I'm very thirsty. Maybe this party wasn't such a good idea. I have to get ready and go to school. More finals. I dread to think of what state Rose is in. I pad upstairs in my thong and top and go to wake her. She's still wearing everything but her heels. I can smell her from the doorway and it isn't cute. School starts in an hour and we both need to shower. I decide to let her sleep for another few minutes while I scrub up.

I move quickly under the spray of water. The heat and steam make me feel a bit better. I wash my hair twice because I know the smell of beer, cigarettes, and Rose's puke really got a chance to set in overnight. I also scrub away the feel of Jacob's breath in my ear.

I turn the water off and go to wake her. I move the hair out of face and briefly consider yelling "boo!" or something, but I know that she must be feeling like utter crap, so I spare her. "Rose, it's time to wake up. School starts in forty-five."

"No," she moans and rolls over.

"Emmett will miss you if you don't show up."

"Okay, I'm up, I'm up." She rolls out of bed and starts toward the bathroom with my blanket still wrapped around her shoulders.

"Hey, I'm going to need that." I grab the covers off her and she shivers. "Just shower and then we'll go, Rose."

The rest of the week passes at a snail's pace. Finals unceremoniously end and winter break begins at long last. I'm not looking forward to an extended break from school too much; I prefer to stay busy, and I don't know when the next time I'll get to see Edward will be. But Charlie is back and all the paperwork is settled. I don't even ask him how his trip was. He doesn't want to talk about it and neither do I.

We have Christmas at the Black's. Things with Jacob are a bit awkward after what happened at the party, but neither of us mentions it. I don't have the energy to tell Jake off. I just feel so tired these days.

The Clearwaters come over too and we eat dinner together and exchange gifts. I give Charlie a new fishing tackle box and one of those funny vests with lots of pockets on the front. He gives me Bevington's Complete Works of Shakespeare and a digital camera. It's too much, but I accept it gracefully.

I'm feeling too down to really try at anything anymore. I can't stop dreaming about Edward. He has utterly consumed my thought and I can do nothing but think of him.

I keep telling myself that I'll feel better once I see him again. But I don't see him over the break at all. He doesn't mow his lawn, or check his mail, or even leave a light on in his house for me to glance him through his window. I start to wonder if he's gone back to... wherever he moved from for the holiday.

The longer I go without seeing him, the more insane I start to feel. I begin to think that maybe if I just lay eyes on him one more time, I'll be able to see him as he truly is and calm down a bit. Maybe he's not as handsome, not as funny, stunning, heart-poundingly beautiful as I think he is. Maybe I've blown him out of proportion in my mind.

The break comes to an end and I can feel myself start to get excited to go back to school. I know the only reason I'm excited is because I want to see Edward. I repress my anticipation and remind myself that I'm an idiot if I think that anything could ever come of my obsession – there, I said it - with Edward.

Nonetheless, I can't stop thinking about him.

_Today's the day_, I think, as my alarm goes off. Never in my life have I been so excited to go to school. I know it' stupid to be so excited, and it's even stupider to imagine that he could care what I'm wearing. But as I choose my clothes, I feel like I'm dressing for him. I know I'm nothing special; I just want to be seen.

I don't really have any expectations about what will happen. I don't even have the illusion that he will somehow come to the realization that I am the most beautiful and intelligent girl in a 30-mile radius, and that he'll want to be with me in some kind of act of truth and defiance.

But I can't help but dream a little. Maybe if I look just right, he'll notice me, realize how special I am.

I arrive a bit too early for the first day back at school. Rose is getting a ride from Emmett, so I've driven myself. Few other students are already on campus. It's mostly just nerds and underclassmen - the only other people beside myself who are anxious enough to show up so early.

I get out of my truck and try not to look too giddy as I make my way over to the English building. _This is it,_ I keep thinking.

I lean next to the locked door of his classroom, waiting for him to come by. I wanted to be here early enough to politely re-introduce myself and find a good seat. It's a cold January morning and my breath hangs in the air. I snuggle deeper into my coat and try to fight off the chills that I'm sure are not only related to the temperature.

He rounds the corner. His grey peacoat hangs open to reveal a tight royal blue sweater, which he wears over a white shirt and tie. I know I shouldn't be thinking these things, but I can't help but wonder if he'd thought of me while he dressed this morning as well.

"Hey, Bella!" he half-yells as he approaches. _Did he just sound excited?_ He takes a large bundle of keys from his pocket and unlocks the classroom door. He steps inside and gestures for me to follow. The room is warm.

"Do you have assigned seats in this class?" I ask shyly, wondering how my voice sounds to him.

"Nope. Sit anywhere you like."

"Is this one okay?" I ask, pointing to a chair in the front row, to his right.

"Wow. That's amazing. I imagined you'd sit there."

_What?_

"Cool. Okay, then. I'll take it." I place my book bag on the floor next to my new seat and take my coat off. I've already started sweating, and I'm sure it's not just the warmth of the room that has me heated. His presence is making me nervous. I've imagined this moment so many times, but my stomach is still in knots and I don't know what to do.

We are alone. I suddenly feel very conscious of his eyes on me as I get settled. I can hear the squeak of the dry erase marker on the board as he writes out the homework, but I feel him watching me. Perhaps what I decided to wear is a bit over the top. I want him to notice me, but I don't expect to get this much - however unspoken - attention. I can't decide if I like it or not. Is this a fantasy I really want to come true? I hardly know this man. I feel like I'm being weird.

I hang my coat over the back of my chair and smooth of my jeans as I sit. I cross my ankles and the fabric of my flats rub against each other. It's quiet in the room and I'm highly aware of the sounds that disrupt the silence between us.

"Blue is a nice color for you," he says, and gestures to my shirt before he turns around abruptly and shakes his head._ Is he thinking he's gone too far by paying me a compliment?_ I want to tell him that he looks good in blue, too, but instead I just bite down on my bottom lip.

Just then Mike Newton and Jessica Stanley come in the room. I can hear Jessica's shrill whine from across the room. I smirk to myself, thinking about the party at my house. Maybe Mike was too drunk that night to remember how truly obnoxious Jessica was being. They're discussing _Crime and Punishment_.

Great. I'd started to read that book in Mr. Cope's class last semester. I hadn't understood it. Why was that guy so anxious and sweaty all the time? I hope that Edward has planned his lessons so that I won't be forced to finish it now. Nonetheless, I still have it in my book bag. I pull it out, along with a notebook and my favorite pen. I try to look like a good student as I arrange my things neatly on my desk and wait for the other students to arrive.

As I stare blankly at the cover of my book, trying not to think about the mounting weekly hours I'll spend with this glorious man, Angela suddenly plops down in the desk next to mine.

"Whoa. Hey. You're in this class now?" she asks, seeming glad to see me.

"Yeah. Um, I used to have English 3rd period, but I wanted to take Drama Lit and that's during 3rd period too, as you know," I babble. "So… here I am." I smile at her.

"That's great. I think we're about to start reading Death of a Salesman, and nothing's worse than reading a play in a room full of people who don't understand theatre. At least you and I can suffer through the bad acting together."

"Sounds like a plan." As glad as I am to know someone to talk to in this class, I'm worried that Angela will be able to see right through me. _Would this crush be obvious?_ "Are you guys still reading C and P?"

"Hmm?"

"Um, Crime and Punishment. Have you guys finished it yet?"

"No, but we're actually supposed to start it this week. Good thing you brought your copy. Smart girl."

"Thanks," I scoff.

This is going to be more difficult than I thought. Well, maybe the torture of re-reading this atrocity will take my mind off of his perfect jaw line, the way his neck slopes into the collar of his shirt, his deep green eyes...

Edward throws his book loudly onto his desk. I snap out of it.

"Okay, guys. I hope you had a fun and safe winter break." I can't help but smile at the idea that he cares that we were safe. But it also makes me want to roll my eyes. _What did he think we'd been doing? Doing coke and racing cars?_ "This semester's going to be a little tougher. We've got a lot of serious reading, and we'll also be preparing you to take the Advanced Placement test at the end of the semester. That means in-class essays every Friday." The entire class groans in unison. "Hey guys, be nice. Don't put this all on me," he says, holding his hands up in a show of innocence.

Despite the prospect of weekly essays, today's class drifts by easily. Never before has an hour seemed so short. Suddenly, the bell is ringing and I'm packing up my things.

"So," a warm, manly voice addresses me, "how's your first day going?"

"It's good," I reply, unable to think of anything else to say.

"That's it? Good?" he teases.

"Yeah. Um, actually, I've got a writer's cramp. I don't think I've ever taken so many notes in my life."

"Well, don't burn yourself out. You've got a whole semester of my torture left." I blush at his words. Torture. Exactly. But it won't just be because of him; this stupid book has a part to play too. "You seem a bit stressed. Is everything okay?" he asks.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just… no offense, but I really hate Crime and Punishment. We started reading it in Mr. Cope's class last semester and I just don't see what's to like about this weirdo. So, I'm trying to take in as much as I can. Hence, the notes." I smile. I think that's the most I've ever spoken to him at one time.

"Okay, well, if you're really struggling, or if you just want to chat about why I think this book is so cool, stop by my office any time." My heart hammers. I feel like he's just asked me out on a date.

"Thanks. I think I will."

I walk slowly to my Music Theory class, mulling over the last hour in my head. This is stupid. I feel like I'm making so much out of so little. Was I imagining it when I saw him look up from his grade book and smile at me when I'd sneezed? Was it possible that he'd just accidentally dropped a notecard in front of my desk? When he was stooping for it, did I hear him whisper my name?

No. This is impossible. And ridiculous. Here's a man, an adult man. He has a life. He won't go home after school and google my name. He won't analyze what I'd said today. He won't feel his stomach twist and lose his appetite when he thinks of me. He won't think of me at all.

He'll probably drive his fancy Volvo back to his house and kick his shoes off by the door. He probably has a whole fancy life full of adult fancy friends. He probably has a routine of driving out to Port Angeles to meet women for dates... Maybe he's married.

_God!_ I banish the image from my head. I can't think of him in his real life. He exists so perfectly in my fantasy.

The one in which he sits at his desk and waits for me. Every time he hears the door open, his head jerks up, hoping that it's me coming in. His face drops whenever he sees that it isn't me slipping in through the door, gliding toward him...

I spend the hour of Music Theory shifting uncomfortably in my plastic chair, trying to forget the fact that I'll be facing Mr. C again soon...

"Bella. You're up."

"Huh? Me?"

"Yeah. Get up here."

_Shit, what does Mrs. Meyer want?_ I turn to Angela. She's jabbing her finger at a page of sheet music. _Scales. Okay, let's do this._

I stand in front of the class as apparently the rest of the students have already. My stomach churns with unfamiliar nerves. Usually getting up in front of a group is no big deal, but this time I feel lost. Had I been paying attention, I'd have known what was going on. I wouldn't be feeling this way. I clear my throat as I place myself next to the piano.

"B flat major," she announces and hits a black key. "When you're ready."

I run though the scale easily and put my head down as I walk back to my seat. If this is any example of how my day is going to go, I'm in trouble. I know it's stupid to drift away from real life into fantasies. I have to pull myself together and quit slacking off. Focus is going to be the key this semester.

A few more students go through their scales and the bell rings. I gather my things and Angela and I head out into the hallway. We look at each other and sigh.

Fifteen minutes until Drama Lit...


	7. Ripeness is All

**Author's Note: The characters and settings of Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. The original content, ideas, and plot lines of this story belong to the author. The events in this story are fictional and any similarities to actual persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Additionally, this story contains subject matter not suitable for minors. Underage drinking, drug use, consensual sex, strong language, abuse, and other adult content may be present in this story. Again, all sex in this story is consensual. If you are under 18 and/or uncomfortable with any of these subjects, please be advised that this story may not be for you.**

Leading Lady

Chapter 7 - Ripeness is All

EDWARD.

Alice hosts Christmas at her place. It hasn't occurred to me that I haven't actually seen her house yet until I'm pulling up to her driveway with a store-bought ham in my passenger seat. Her place is a bit off the beaten path. In fact, it's a long way off the beaten path; her house is in the forest. It's hard to tell how big the place is from the main road, but as I get closer, I realize that it is huge. Not that we didn't have it good growing up - we did - but holy fuck, Alice seems to have married up. Especially considering she met the guy in Forks, I'm pretty impressed with her.

Before I even reach the front door, Alice flings herself at me. I nearly drop the Christmas ham as she squeezes my neck.

"Merry Christmas, Alice," I sigh glumly. I always find it difficult to work up the Christmas spirit. Alice seems to have no trouble with it.

She leads me inside. The place is resplendent with decorations. Garlands, wreaths, and mistletoe are hanging everywhere. It smells like a fucking bottle of Pine-Sol in this place. Jasper comes and takes the ham from me. He pats me on the back. I can tell it's going to be a long night.

After Alice's Christmas extravaganza, I feel the need to hibernate for a few days. Holiday cheer really grates on my nerves. I had been hoping my mother and father would make it out to Forks to surprise us, but - as expected - my dad was working. I couldn't help but be a little - okay, a lot - annoyed that he couldn't take one fucking day off to spend with his family.

I spend the rest of the break locked inside of my house, eating frozen pizzas and sleeping on my couch with the TV on at night. I'm the picture of depression and I refuse to admit that it has anything to with Bella. She's just a girl, I try and convince myself. I blame my sullenness on the weather. All the snow, rain, and clouds are giving me seasonal affective disorder, I'm sure of it.

I hardly leave the house at all. I pretend to myself that I just don't want to go out in the cold, but really it's because I don't want to see Bella. I'm afraid that once I see her, I won't be able to stop thinking about her. I think about her constantly as it is. I'm sure that seeing her in the grocery store or even going to get her mail would fill my brain with unwelcome longing, and I can't be having that. The more I think about Bella, the more I have to remind myself not to think of her. And the more I have to tell myself to keep my mind off of her, the more I can't stop thinking of her. And so the vicious cycle continues.

When I start perking up towards the end of the break, I decide that I should just give up the ruse - even though the only person that I was trying to convince was myself. I'm excited to see Bella again. Depriving myself of her didn't do me any good. I figure, I can enjoy her company and keep it totally appropriate and that'll be fine. There's no use in suffering through this self-imposed loneliness when the solution is right across the street.

I can't sleep Sunday night. My stomach turns every time I think of standing in front of a class. I try not to picture Bella's face, her eyes following me as I pace in before the rows of desks. I rearrange the desks in my head, make a semi-circle, but I still see Bella in the front row, blushing and sighing.

I let myself drift into a fantasy of touching her warm, flushed cheek, and soon I'm dreaming.

The image of Bella's pink, soft lips parting is disrupted by my alarm and I reluctantly unfold myself from the bed.

After I shower, I stand in front of the closet in my towel, trying to decide what to wear. I usually throw on whatever's clean, but today I feel... pressure. I want to look good on my first day of teaching, and I want to look good for Bella.

I know nothing can or will come of my fascination with her, but I still want her to like me, so I put on a white shirt and tie. I pull a blue sweater over my head and grab my coat and bag. I'm running a bit behind because I spent so long staring at my clothes hanging in the closet. I want to chastise myself for being such an image-obsessed pussy, but it's a bit too early in the morning for self-flagellation, so I pour my coffee in my to-go cup and leave.

When I arrive on campus, I stop by my office first to pick up a few books. I grab my roughed-up copy of Crime and Punishment, Billy Collins' Sailing Alone Around the Room, and Fine Frenzy, my favorite book of poetry. The students have to learn how to read, understand, and interpret poems for their AP exams, and the pit of my stomach twists knowing that I'm the one who has to teach them those skills.

I grab the giant bunch of keys I was given by the school and make my way over to the classroom. When I come around the corner I stutter my walk a little when Bella comes into view. She's leaning against the wall, her cheek pressed to the shoulder of her coat, and a lock of hair is hanging over her eyes.

A smile spreads across my face as I imagine sweeping the hair from her face. "Hey, Bella!" I shout at her, trying to seem casual. I slip my key in the lock and attempt to stave off my perverted thoughts. I gesture for Bella to enter, unsure of what else to say to her.

She sits in the front row, in the exact seat I had pictured her in. I stupidly tell her this and then want to kick myself. Now she thinks that I've been thinking about her. Which is true, I guess, but I really should be keeping these things to myself. It's so quiet in the room and I can hear her breathing, I can smell her skin and shampoo. I try to write a few things on the board, but I feel completely surrounded by her. We are alone together.

I worry that she's uncomfortable in the silence, so I look over my shoulder - careful not to turn around entirely and expose my semi to her. "Blue is a nice color for you," I say, remembering that blue top she wore at her party when I watched her from my window. Fuck, did I just hint that I've seen her in blue before? I shake my head and go back to writing.

From the corner of my eye, I see her run her tongue across her lip before she bites it. It's making me crazy. Luckily, some other students come in just then and save me from attacking Bella. It's that annoying, wannabe-sexy girl Jessica and some boy. They're talking about the reading we'll be doing this semester.

I struggle through the whole period. I give my lecture about Dostoyevsky's background and assign the reading for tomorrow. I talk about the AP exam and answer questions about the semester. I keep glancing in Bella's direction. I worry that I might be paying her too much attention, so I force my eyes to look at other students, at the cover of a book, and the boring grey industrial carpet... anywhere but her deep chocolate eyes.

I give them a few minutes at the end of the period to start their reading. I hear Bella sigh as she opens her book, but I decidedly ignore it. I spend so long not looking at her that I wonder if she's noticed that I haven't been paying any attention to her. I don't know which is worse, to ignore her or to pay too much attention to her. I'm torn and I don't know what to do. I want her to feel special, but I don't want to single her out and make her uncomfortable. I need to treat her the same as the other students for the sake of my job and her education... but I can't help it. She's always on my mind, nagging nagging nagging.

She sneezes, an adorable little squeak, and I feel like my heart's in my throat. I want to squeeze the shit out of her and lavish her with attention. But I don't. I groan and then quickly clear my throat. I don't want to sound too... anything right now.

She takes her time packing up her things after class and I can't help but hope that she's stalling to talk to me. A boy can dream, right? I can't ignore her any longer. We're alone in my classroom for the second time in an hour. I can smell her, feel the heat radiating off her skin, I can't pretend she's not here. Besides, she's my student; I owe her some polite conversation.

I inch towards her desk. She's not looking at me and I don't want to startle her.

"So," I pause. I haven't even thought of what to say to her. "How's your first day going?"

I watch her throat bob as she swallows. Her lips part and there's a small silence before she shyly replies, "It's good."

"That's it? Good?" I almost laugh.

"Yeah. Um, actually, I've got a writer's cramp. I don't think I've ever taken so many notes in my life." She continues packing her things away, avoiding eye contact. I hope I'm not making her uncomfortable.

"Well, don't burn yourself out. You've got a whole semester of my torture left." I'm goading her but I'm not sure if she likes it. She blushes... and did she just roll her eyes? Now I just feel bad, I didn't mean to worry her or anything. "You seem a bit stressed. Is everything okay?" I ask in earnest.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just… no offense, but I really hate Crime and Punishment. We started reading it in Mr. Cope's class last semester and I just don't see what's to like about this weirdo. So, I'm trying to take in as much as I can. Hence, the notes." Her words come out in a rush and she beams up at me. She looks so innocent and childlike. I remember that I'm her teacher.

"Okay, well, if you're really struggling, or if you just want to chat about why I think this book is so cool, stop by my office any time." I honestly want to offer her help as her teacher, but I can't help but drool a little at the thought of her and I alone in my office. She's like a nut I desperately want to crack. If only she'd let me in.

I expect her to blush, grab her bag roughly, and rush out the door wordlessly. Instead she looks me dead in the eye and says, "Thanks. I think I will."

I have an hour break before I teach Drama Lit. I go to the theater and poke around for a bit. I print off the syllabus, wheel a chalkboard onstage, and stack the books on a chair. Everything seems set for class so I walk to my office for no reason, just to kill time. I know Bella is in Music Theory because I'm a creepy stalker. I pass the music building in hopes of accidentally-on-purpose running into her or seeing her through the window. I know my behavior is entirely out of line, but as long as it seems like a total coincidence, I think I'm in the clear.

I'm well aware of the fact that I've been trying to convince myself of a lot of things these days.

I don't see Bella through the window; I'm not close enough to get a good view as I pass by. But I do hear students singing scales. I wondering if I'm hearing Bella...

When I reach my office, I check my tie in the reflection of the window of the door. I've become entirely too interested in my own looks over the last 24 hours. It's ridiculous.

I'm sitting in a brown folding chair on the stage of the Little Theater at Forks High. I keep crossing and uncrossing my legs. I want to be a tableau of casual professionalism when the students arrive. I want the image of me sitting just perfectly in this folding chair to be forever burned into my students' memories as the first time they ever saw their new theater teacher.

I know I have two solid hours to look forward to and I want things to go just right.

The students start rolling in. First it's a couple of girls, then Jessica and the boy, whose name I've learned is Mike - they never seem to be apart. Then Rose saunters in with the boy I saw her making out with before the break. I make a mental note never ever to speak of having witnessed this. I'm surprised to see this kid in theater and at first I just assume that he's walking her to class, but when he sits down next to her in the second row, I realize he's staying. Seems more like the football playing type, but what do I know?

Another buff, non-theater type walks in and nods at Rosalie's man friend. This kid is massive and could probably kick my ass. I don't know why he intimidates me, but he does. He looks rough. He sits down behind Rosalie.

I start feeling anxious when Bella doesn't arrive immediately. I wonder if she's going to bail on this class after her experience with me this morning. I can't really remember doing anything wrong, but I don't know how my actions read to her. I wipe the worry off my face and continue to smile and greet students as they come in.

I finally see Bella and Angela come through the door at the back of the theater. A wave of relief washes through me. They're joking about something and Bella's laughing, but her brow is furrowed. She palms her forehead and Angela pats her on the back. She doesn't make eye contact with me as she approaches the front of the theater. She smiles at that massive kids and sits next to Rosalie. The kid practically explodes with adoration. It's all over his face and I want to go give him a piece of my mind. I can't believe I'm getting jealous over a smile, but I am. I try to accept my feelings and move on.

The bell rings, signaling the start of class.

I clear my throat. Here we go.

"Hey, class. I'm Edward Cullen. Feel free to call me Mr. Edward or Mr. Cullen, or just Cullen. Just don't call me Eddie. This is Dramatic Literature. If it says something other than Drama Lit on your schedule for third period, you're in the wrong place. Now is your chance to escape." The students giggle, but no one moves. They seem much more animated and eager than my AP English students, but I guess that's to be expected. All these kids are attention loving, only child types.

"I know that I'm no Jim," I continue, "and I'm not trying to be Jim or to replace him. I'll try to run this class in the same fashion that he did, but I hope you'll forgive me if things are a bit different than you are all used to."

I hand a stack of notecards to a student in the first row. "Please write your name on one of these cards. I'll be using them to choose scene partners and improv groups. I'm going to need someone to be the keeper of the cards... a 'name god' or 'goddess,' if you will. Any takers?"

Maybe it's because I'm looking right at her, or maybe she really is an eager beaver, but Bella's hand shoots right up. "Um, Bella, is it?" I feign ignorance. Her brow furrows and she nods. "Please give your name cards to Bella as soon as they're ready."

The notecards are making their way around the room and I'm watching as the students start to write their names down. "Once you've given your card to Bella, please join me on stage and form a circle."

The students trickle on stage and stand a little distance from me. They're probably wary of me, which is fine. When the entire class in standing on stage and Bella is clutching a stack of cards, I move over to the chalkboard. "Okay, being that this is a block English and drama class, we're going to be studying vocabulary words as well. I'm going to need a 'word god' or 'goddess' as well." I see a hand shoot up. "You up for it?" I ask, nodding at the girl.

"Yeah. Um, I'm Lauren, by the way." I think I see Bella make a face at Rosalie. Can't be too sure though. I hand Lauren a fresh stack of notecards. "Hold onto these. We won't have any words today, but we will tomorrow. As I assign them, write them and their definitions down on these cards and I'll use them to quiz you guys." I expect to hear a groan or something, but the students just nod their heads and continue to stare at me.

"Okay, one last order of business before we start the fun." I take up a piece of chalk. "Here's my phone number and email address. I know you guys all have your cell phones in your pockets right now, so please just take them out and enter my number. Feel free to call me if you have questions about the homework, just want to talk, or if you guys are ever in trouble. I know that you guys drink and party and that you'd die before asking your parents for a ride, so just call me if you need anything. I'm serious." The students huff but take their phones out in unison and start typing. I can see that Bella, Angela, and Rosalie are all suppressing giggles.

Once everyone has put their phones back in their pockets, we play a few of my favorite theater games. I decide to break the ice with a good round of pass the clap and zip zap zop. We're yelling onomatopoeic words at each other and jumping around like idiots and pretty soon everyone's giggling, but intently focused. It's pretty amazing how playing some kindergarten-level games with a bunch of teenagers has loosened me up. I feel right at home. I want to throw my tie on the floor.

I want to get into some Suzuki statues and do a zen walk, but I don't want to ask too much of them on their first day. I'll save that for tomorrow.

Instead, I just get to know their names by asking each of them to step into the center of the circle and state their name along with an adjective. I go first; I'm "Eager Edward." I pretty much feel like a huge douche saying those words, let alone making other people say words similar to that, but then again, I played this game in my high school drama class, and it's on Jim's approved list of activities.

"Luscious Lauren" and "Juicy Jessica" nearly double over in laughter after they give their monikers. I'm pretty disgusted, but I give the nod of approval as they step back into the circle. I learn the names of many of the boys too. "Extreme Emmett" is "Radiant Rosalie's" man friend, and "Jolly Jacob" can't keep his eyes off my girl.

I nearly choke on my altoid when she steps into the circle and says flatly, "Basic Bella." She hangs her head and walks back towards "Awesome Angela." I want to tell her she has to go again and say something more positive about herself, but I haven't made any other student try again, and I really don't want to single her out. She's "Beautiful Bella" to me.

I end the period with a round of ensemble squash. I give them 30 seconds to wordlessly assemble themselves into the image of an airplane. It comes out looking like a sinking ship, but I congratulate them on their work anyway. We take a short break and when they come back for the second hour of class, I have them form a circle of chairs around the stage and grab a textbook to read from.

The first play we're reading is Tartuffe. It's pretty light and funny and I think it's a good way to start the year. We read aloud through most of scene one. I'm slightly surprised - especially after her quiet demeanor when introducing herself - when Bella volunteers again, this time to read first. She reads for Madam Pernelle, and she's good, too.

No sooner have I begun to really enjoy Bella's performance, Rosalie takes over reading for that role. I can tell that the competition between these two might have passed healthy a while back, but I don't scold Rosalie. I can't do that, it's none of my business, and this is an open read. Anyone can read for whomever he or she wants - I don't choose.

All too soon, the class is over and the students are filing out of the theater. I really feel sad to see them go. I think I just had the most fun I've had since I've been in Forks. Bella lingers again. Either she is very slow with gathering up her things or she is purposefully staying behind... for me?

She hoists the strap of her messenger bag over her shoulder and slowly approaches me as I wipe my phone number off the chalkboard.

"Hey, um, Mr. Edward," she says softly, as if she's afraid to startle me.

I turn around. I'm pretty sure I've got a shit-eating grin all over my face because I'm about to burst with satisfaction that she's even this close to me. "Mhmm?" It comes out like a moan.

"I thought about it and I think it would be really helpful to discuss Crime and Punishment. I've been reading it since last semester and I just don't get it." She picks at the hem of her shirt.

"Absolutely, Ms. Swan. Do you have any prep periods this semester?"

"Yeah, I have sixth period free."

"Okay, I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to meet with you this week, but go ahead and shoot me an email and we can talk about it that way, just until I can find some time to sit down and chat." What the fuck was that, Cullen? I don't know why I have just essentially refused an offer I had prayed she would accept. I have sixth period free every fucking day this week and I just told her I was unsure? I roll my eyes at myself and scratch my nose nervously.

"Okay, I can do that. Thanks a lot," she mutters and practically runs for the door.

When I arrive home that night I finally check my email. I'd resisted checking it on my phone while at school for the remainder of the afternoon for fear of heartbreak. I wanted to see an email from Bella and I knew if I didn't see one that I would be disappointed.

I set my laptop up on the coffee table. My heart starts to race as I open my email program. I know she's right across the street, and I feel silly getting excited over a potential email when she's so near.

When I open my inbox, I see that I have a few emails from some of my students and other faculty. Bella's is third from the top. She must have sent it while she was still on campus. I open it right away.

From: Isabella Swan

Subject: Crime&Punishment

Date: January 15, 2007 1:43PM

To: Edward Cullen

Mr. Edward,

Sorry that I'm hating C & P. I think that the main problem is that I'm not one of those people who can get so engrossed in any book that they just devour it in hours. I find myself "checking out," so to speak, when I'm reading this one in particular. I often finish chapters and realize that I have no idea what I've just read. Perhaps this makes me a person who is not adept enough at reading for AP English. In any case, I'd really like to like this text. I just don't right now. (I'm entitled to not like a book every once in a while, right?) Do you think that maybe we could discuss this sometime at brunch to peak my interest a little more? I'd love that so-called 'pep talk' you've been speaking of.

-Bella

She's so self-deprecating sometimes. I don't know what to say other than yes, so I type out a short message and hit send.

From: Edward Cullen

Subject: RE: Crime&Punishment

Date: January 15, 2007 4:17PM

To: Isabella Swan

Ms. Bella,

Thank you for the very thoughtful message. Yes, you are permitted to have opinions about books, but I'm glad you're at least going to give me a chance for a "pep talk" on this one.

See you tomorrow at 7:55!

EC

I tap my foot on the hardwood floor and wait for her reply. I want her to say something like "looking forward to it!" or "see you then." Something, anything to confirm she's gotten my email. Even though I haven't written much, I'm desperate to know that we've successfully communicated.

Minutes pass. No answer. My foot is starting to hurt from hitting the floor so hard.

I give up on waiting and decide to go for a run. I put on my running shoes, shove my headphones in my ears, and take off jogging down the street. As Van Morrison croons, I imagine I'm running toward a future where Bella is older, when she isn't my student anymore. I picture a future where she wants me and we can be together.

I quicken my pace.


	8. Wondrous Pitiful

**Author's Note: The characters and settings of Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. The original content, ideas, and plot lines of this story belong to the author. The events in this story are fictional and any similarities to actual persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Additionally, this story contains subject matter not suitable for minors. Underage drinking, drug use, consensual sex, strong language, abuse, and other adult content may be present in this story. Again, all sex in this story is consensual. If you are under 18 and/or uncomfortable with any of these subjects, please be advised that this story may not be for you.**

Leading Lady

Chapter 8 - Wondrous Pitiful

BELLA.

I'm holding the cards.

Literally, I'm holding the cards.

I feel so powerful. I'm pretty sure I can do a lot of damage with these babies. I have the power to pair people up, keep people apart. I know it's only high school, but theater politics can get pretty hairy sometimes. And that's fun to watch.

I'm in a daze for the rest of the day. I'm, like, drunk on Edward. I sit listlessly in choir, lazily singing along with the crowd. Mrs. Meyer cuts us some slack because it's the first day of the new semester, but I know that before long she'll be rapping her baton on her music stand and shouting at us to "sing from our bowels" or something ridiculous like that. She's also soon to announce what the spring musical will be, but right now I can't care. I'm thinking of a way to get myself back in Mr. Edward's office. I just want to bask in his presence, that's all.

He and I will be meeting sometime to discuss C&P. I'm not thrilled that I'll have to talk about this stupid book with him, but honestly, I'd do just about anything to sit alone with him. I hope he teases me again.

I float out of the choir room. Angela walks next to me as we make our way to the cafeteria. I can feel the giddy energy radiating off of her. Eric stood next to her in choir and even rubbed her back during warm-ups. She won't admit it - not even to herself - but she's got a pretty major crush on him. It's pretty cute to watch... I mean, it's better than having to witness Rosalie and Emmett suck face every time they think no one's looking. And trust me, someone's always looking.

I enjoy Angela's positive energy for as long as I can. Before too long, though, the black cloud of cynicism settles over me. Deep down, I know that there's nothing real about what Angela is feeling. Or Rose, either. I don't say anything because I don't want to ruin what small amount of fun they can have in their lives. If they want to believe that there's love out there for them, that's fine. Perhaps, for them at least, ignorance is bliss.

So I sit quietly and let them bliss out with their boys. I'm pretty sure that Eric is holding Ang's hand under the table, and Rosalie hasn't come up for air in, oh, about twelve minutes. I pick my bagel apart. I can't eat. Thoughts of Edward keep drifting towards me. And every time he comes to mind, my stomach turns. I've lost my appetite.

I don't know where Jacob is, but I could really do with his company, even if he's trying to hold my hand under the table too. Fighting off his advance would at least give me something to do.

I figure he's with Quil and Embry. He's got better things to do than do work on me... surely he's moved on. I feel a pang of disappointment at that realization. I never wanted him to be any more than a friend, but the thought that he's given up on me kind of hurts.

The bell rings again and the entire cafeteria beings to stir. Rose and Emmett are still making out and no one wants to interrupt them, so we all file away from the table, hoping that they won't pass out or get expelled or anything.

I wave goodbye to Angela and Eric. I'm alone again. As always.

Sixth period. I have an hour with nothing to do. I wander to the computer lab. It's empty for the most part. I take a computer in the back corner. I don't know why I'm cowering over here. It's not like I'm really doing anything wrong, just going to write an email to a teacher. There isn't any harm in that. But somehow I feel strangely deviant emailing him.

I intend to write a quick request to meet with him, but I end up babbling something about how much I hate the book and wanting a pep talk. I don't have the energy to read through it and edit for content. I want it sent off as soon as possible - maybe he'll get it before he goes home - so I just hit send. I release a breath I didn't know I was holding. I stare at the screen for a good while, willing that little "1" to pop up next to my inbox. My heart is pounding. I'm all hopped up over sending an email. I mentally slap myself out of it and gather my things.

I have to stop being so goddamn stupid about this guy. He's a fucking teacher and even if he wasn't, he'd have no interest in my sorry ass.

I sit in the library for the rest of the hour doing nothing other than mentally chiding myself. When the bell finally rings, I'm relived to head to psych. Jacob is already there waiting. He practically pulls out my chair for me as I sit down. He's uncharacteristically quiet, as he was this morning in theatre. I don't know what's up with him, but it's really getting on my nerves.

At the same time that he dotes on me, he also ignores me. It stings a little. I'm too shy though to ask him what's up. I'm a very non-confrontational person and I worry that his silence has something to do with me. I don't want to get into it. Especially today.

When I get home, I immediately want to check my email. But I don't. I resist. Maybe if I ignore this nagging feeling it'll just go away eventually. I don't want to start a pattern of getting all ramped up to check my email and then getting extremely disappointed when there's no reply. I don't have time to be stupid like that.

Charlie is still sleeping upstairs. I can hear him snoring. I fall back into the routine I had going from before the break. I sit on the floor next to the coffee table and open my Drama textbook. I don't get very far in my reading before Charlie gets up. I make him his deckfast in silence, still lost in thoughts of Edward.

We sit down at the wooden kitchen table together and start in on our pasta.

"Hey kid, you're awfully quiet tonight. Everything okay?"

"Yeah, dad, I'm fine. I just think school's going to be hard this semester. It's my last one and I still haven't given much thought about college," I say, making up an excuse for my sullenness.

"Don't worry about it, alright. I'm here to help," he tries to comfort me, but I'm pretty sure he can't help with the actual problem I do have.

"Thanks Dad. I appreciate it."

By the time the dishes are done, I can't stand it any longer. Charlie heads off to work and I run upstairs to check my email.

To my great relief - and pleasure - Mr. Edward has written back. His message is short and cryptic. I don't know what to respond with, so I resolve to talk with him about meeting up tomorrow, in person.

I feel exhausted even after such a slow day, so I shower and take my reading to bed with me. I fall asleep with Tartuffe open on my chest.

I'm careful not to be too early to class this morning. I stop by the diner on my way to school and get a coffee to go.

When I arrive on campus I only have a few minutes before the bell rings, so I head straight to English. Angela is sitting at her desk nibbling on a piece of toast and staring at an open book. I plop down next to her.

"What's got you so interested?" I whisper in her ear.

"Believe me, it's not interesting," she mumbles with her mouth full, and then shows me the cover of her book.

"I know. I fucking hate it too." I roll my eyes.

"High school," she groans despondently with her hand over her mouth. I shrug back at her. The bell rings.

Mr. Edward walks through the door, looking a little but disheveled. His hair is usually pretty messy, but this morning it's a wild nest of copper waves. He runs his hand through it. He has bed hair. For a second I'm turned on because he's sporting the just-fucked look. Then I feel my stomach roll as a wave of jealousy crashes over me. I feel myself pale. I can't look at him, so I take a sip of my coffee and try not to throw up.

"'If existence really does precede essence, there is no explaining things away by reference to a fixed and given human nature. In other words, there is no determinism; man is free, man is freedom. On the other hand, God does not exist; we find no values or commands to turn to which legitimize our conduct. So in the bright realm of values, we have no excuse behind us, nor do we have justification before us. We are alone, with no excuses.' That's a quote by Sartre," Mr. Edward walks around the room handing out a paper. At the top is the quote he's just given. "I'm going to give you guys two minutes to read that to yourselves, and then we'll discuss it. You can start now."

I stare at the page, trying to make sense of it. I can't think. My mind is empty. I keep picturing Mr. Edward having sex with someone who isn't me. And it makes me fucking sick. What's worse is that I know how dumb I'm being...

I focus myself and read the quote again. My brain is still blank. A hand appears at the top of my desk. It's Edward's. I watch as he places a yellow sticky note on my desk next to the handout I'm reading. Then he moves my notebook over to cover it.

I don't look up at him; I don't even move. I listen to him walk away, I hear him pull his chair out and sit in it. I inch my notebook to the side. On the sticky note, written in green pen - "Are you okay?"

My stomach drops.

Slowly, methodically, I raise my eyes to meet his. His head is bent down towards his book, but his eyes are looking directly at me. He truly looks worried. I don't know what to do... I mean, I'm kind of not okay, but I could never tell him why. So I just nod at him and force a smile. One side of his mouth curls up and he minutely shakes his head.

I move my notebook back to cover the note. I turn back to the handout. I honestly don't know what to make of that exchange. I shift my eyes to look around the room. No one seems to have noticed that Mr. Sexy God and I have... there aren't even words for it. I can't believe he even noticed that I was disturbed, let alone that he'd ask me if I was okay. He's so nice, and he really, really doesn't have to be.

He breaks the on-going war in my head by beginning a discussion about free will versus predetermination. I try my best to focus on what he's talking about, but I feel like his note is burning a hole in my desk. I move my notebook again to look at it. His handwriting is so nice. Messy but legible... it's perfect.

I'm swooning over handwriting. I hate myself sometimes.

I peel the note off my desk and stick it to the inside cover of my notebook. I'm definitely keeping it.

My classmates are engaged in a pseudo-intellectual conversation about fate, choices, God, destiny, and all the downfalls of the human race. Jessica is rambling on about America being a free country or some shit. It's not hard to block out the drone of her voice; I finger the edge of the note.

"That's a valid point, Jessica, in this country we do take our freedoms for granted sometimes. We forget that there are others who don't have that luxury," Edward's tone is both placating and patronizing. I love it.

Jessica nods her head in stuck-up satisfaction. How she got into AP English is a complete mystery to me.

"So, guys, as we start to read Crime and Punishment, I was us to keep in mind the idea of free will. Does Raskolnikov have choices in this tale, or are his actions predetermined? If they are predetermined, by whom? Also, watch for conflicts in the book. Head versus heart, assertion versus submission. Okay?"

I furiously take notes. The cramp I had yesterday rears its ugly head. Thankfully, Mr. Edward stops there. He writes the reading assignment on the board. "Okay, lets switch gears for the last 15 minutes of class. Go grab a copy of Fine Frenzy from the shelf next to the door. Start looking through it. Take note of the poems that you would like to investigate further. You'll eventually choose one to do a project on. I'm not going to tell you much more than that because I want you guys to have a clear mind going into it, no preconceived notions. Just pick a few you find interesting. Sound good?"

We all nod in unison and get up to collect a book. When I get back to my seat, there's another note on my desk, partly covered by my copy of C&P. I move the book surreptitiously.

"Looks like you're feeling better," it says. He even drew a little smiley face on it. I just about die. I nod at him to tell him 'yes.' He smiles back, but pretends he doesn't even notice me. I don't know why he's giving me special attention - maybe I really did look sick - but I like it.

I force myself to be productive. I read a few haiku in the book and write down the page numbers for later.

The bell rings and the entire class rushes out the door like a herd of cattle. I linger, as I always do. Is this getting weird?

"You got your color back," he says as I shove my pencil case into my bag.

"What?"

"Your color, you got it back. For a second there you were as white as a ghost. Had me a little worried for a second."

"Yeah, um, thanks for your note...s... I guess I don't really feel like myself in the morning until after I've had my coffee," I lie, and eye my now-empty cup.

"Me too," he says as he picks his own cup up. "Addict," he croons as he drains the last drops of coffee.

Suddenly, I'm shy again. I go back to putting my things in my bag.

"Hey, don't be late," he says, "Mrs. Meyer will rap your knuckles if you're not on time."

I don't know how he knows I'm going to music theory, but I don't have time to dwell on that at the moment. He's right, Mrs. Meyer will do everything short of cane me in front of the class if I don't get my ass in my seat in less than 2 minutes.

"Well, then, I'm on my way. See you in an hour," I reply.

"Looking forward to it, Miss Swan."

I take my seat in Music Theory next to Ang. She gestures to the corner of her mouth. "Hey Bella, I think you got a little something... right there."

"Har, har, Angela. I blew Mr. Cullen, very funny." I try to play off her joke. But it's kind of not funny because I wish it were true.

I get the feeling that Music Theory will soon become the longest-feeling class of my day. It's such a cockblocking hour. I leave Mr. Edward to come here, only to spend the whole time anticipating being in his presence again.

Mrs. Meyer reviews counterpoint and then gives us a written quiz. We have to write a harmony to the melody she's given us. It's not hard, but it isn't exactly easy either. I force Edward's sexy hair and thoughts of blowing him from my mind. I complete the quiz and walk it up to the front of the class. I leave it in the basket on the piano.

"Bella," Mrs. Meyer catches my attention. "I hope you're planning on auditioning for the spring play. I don't want you to miss out."

"I'm auditioning, don't worry," I tell her and walk back to my seat. I honestly haven't given much thought to the play at all. Rosalie is pretty much forcing me into trying out. I know she'll get the lead role anyway, so there's no much point in trying for that, but I know that she's the type who needs approval at every step. She likely won't even choose an audition song without my consent.

The rest of the class completes their quizzes and the bell rings. Angela and I stand under the overhang outside the Little Theater and wait for brunch to finish. I eat a snack bar and she puts on lip gloss.

Suddenly, I'm being grabbed from behind. I practically fucking choke on my food. "Jacob, stop trying to kill me!" I sputter.

"Sorry Bells, I just missed you."

"You always fucking miss me." He's been so hot and cold these last couple of days. I don't get it.

"I can't help that now, can I?" he smiles and his white teeth practically make a 'ding' sound as they sparkle at me.

"Whatever, Jacob. Just stop sneaking up on me like that, okay?"

Brunch ends and we head into the theater. Jacob grabs my free hand after I stuff the remainder of my snack bar in my mouth and toss the wrapper in the trash. He holds it so tight, I can't free it. My mouth is full and I can't protest, so I just put up with this ridiculous hand holding as he leads me down one of the side isles. He ushers Angela and I into the third row.

Rosalie and Emmett join us. They're holding hands. In high school terms, I'm pretty sure this means they're dating. I wiggle my eyebrows at Rose and she shoots me back a stern look as if to say, "shut the hell up or I'll kill you." I frown and look away. She must really like this man-boy or something.

"Alright, class. Please join me on stage for some warm ups." Edward's voice floats over the theater and I feel the tension return to my body. I'm nervous around him... I feel like I want to impress him. I put on my serious actress face and make my way to the stage, Ang in tow.

We stand in our customary circle. "Okay, we're going to do a few vocal warm ups, and then we'll go outside for some Suzuki statues and a Zen walk. I'll explain those both in a little bit. Let's warm up with 'Whether the Weather'" first. We all nod, remembering that this was one of Jim's favorite tongue twisters.

We chant in unison, "Whether the weather is cold, whether the weather is hot, we'll get together whatever the weather, whether we like it or not."

We all emphasize the T in 'not' as we've been trained to do, and when I look away from the faces that Angela's making, I see that Mr. Edward is staring at me. When our eyes lock, he quickly looks away.

"That was really something, guys. Well done. I'm impressed." He's kind of rambling. It's weird. "Okay," he continues, rubbing his hands together, "please grab your coats. We're going outside for Suzuki statues." I don't know why the fuck we have to go outside for this exercise, but I'm not looking forward to it. This has the potential to be greatly embarrassing. Nothing is funnier to the rest of the school than a bunch of theater freaks practicing their 'art' in public. Cue the rotten tomatoes.

Emmett looks a little green as we make our way out to the lawn in front of the theater. This could be worst for him, I imagine. What if his teammates catch him doing this - whatever it is we'll be doing? I picture him getting an atomic wedgie and giggle a little to myself.

"What's so funny there, Bells?" Jacob croons in my ear from behind. It's creepy, but I play it off like I don't mind.

"Oh, nothing. Just thinking about what would happen to Emmett if the football team were to walk by in a few minutes." I bite my lip to stifle another giggle.

"Man, that would be some shit luck." Jacob grabs my hand. I'm suddenly incensed. I don't know if it's my nerves, my built up anger with Jacob's nonstop come-ons, or the morning coffee talking, but suddenly I'm right in his face.

"You know what, Jacob? I think it's me who's got the shit luck here. How many times to I have to tell you to back the fuck off? Do not hold my hand. Don't."

"Jeez, Bells -"

"It's Bella, Jacob! Bell-A!" I shout, and storm away from him. Angela links her arm through mine and we find our spots on the lawn. I try to regain focus, but I'm still seeing red. I think what really gets my goat is that I do like Jacob. He's a good guy and I want to be his friend, but he can't get it through his tiny brain that I'm not interested in him like that.

Edward arranges us into two rows. "Okay, Suzuki statues is about focus. It will help you to connect your mind and body. You'll need to respond viscerally - from your gut. You'll start in this position," he bends his legs and puts his elbows on his knees and drops his head. "When I clap my hands and say 'up' I want you to respond as quickly as possible by going into the 'up' position. Your hands should go straight up above you and you should rise to the balls of your feet." I can hear some stupid boys snicker at the word 'balls.' Such children.

"When I clap again, you can resume the 'rest' position - the one I showed you before. If I clap my hands and say 'down,' I want you to again rise up on your... toes, but this time your arms will go straight out in front of you. A second clap will tell you to go back to rest position. When you're in either the 'up' or 'down' position, you need to stay as still and as focused as possible. Here we go. Get into rest position."

We all dutifully assume the rest position. I'm bent over and I can practically feel Jacob's eyes on my ass. I push that thought aside and focus myself.

Mr. Edward claps. "Up!"

We all spring to our toes and stretch our arms towards the looming sky. I tremble a bit at first but find my balance.

Edward claps and we fall into rest position. My coat is starting to feel a bit small. I contemplate taking it off, but worry that it'll interrupt the exercise, so I keep it on.

Clap. "Down!" he shouts. We move in unison, jutting our arms out before us and tipping up on our feet. Again, I'm a bit wobbly, but I find my balance much easier than last time. For someone as clumsy as myself, I think I'm doing pretty well. Mr. Edward makes us hold that position for a bit longer. I feel the strain and tension building in my body, but I refuse to move. I'm like a stone.

I can hear Jessica whimpering somewhere near me, but I ignore her, using her pain to steel my resolution to do my best and thereby impress Mr. Edward.

He claps.

This goes on for what seems like hours. Clap, up, clap, rest, clap, down, clap, rest. He quickens the pace. Soon I'm sweating in my coat and dying to take it off. My feet are starting to hurt and my arms are losing strength. I feed on the pain; I won't give up.

Finally Mr. Edward relents. "Okay, that's enough. Awesome job, guys. I know that was a bit intense, so take a moment to relax. Go get a drink of water and stretch a bit. I know I told you we're having a Zen walk, but it can be more strenuous than it sounds."

Angela shoots me a wary look as the guys of the class start to limber up. They're acting all macho out on the lawn in front of the theater; it's quite a sight to see. Jacob is stretching and Emmett is kind of marching about. It's hilarious, but then again I think they might have the right idea.

I roll my neck and shake the tension from my shoulders.

Mr. Edward lines us up at one edge of the lawn. He point to the other side of it - about half the length of a football field away.

"Your objective is simple. You have thirty minutes to walk to the other side. You must be constantly moving and the first one to get there loses." I can see the twinkle of competition in my classmates' eyes. I don't care about anyone else doing better than me now; I just want to get through this.

"Your time will start in one minute. Get ready."

I shrug out of my coat. Even though it's in the 40s today, I'm burning up after all of that. I place it on the damp ground and step out of my shoes. They're new and giving me blisters. And I want to feel the ground as I move across it. I place my shoes next to my coat.

When I stand up, Edward is right next to me.

"What else are you going to take off?" he whispers.


	9. Infirm of Purpose

**Author's Note: The characters and settings of Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. The original content, ideas, and plot lines of this story belong to the author. The events in this story are fictional and any similarities to actual persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Additionally, this story contains subject matter not suitable for minors. Underage drinking, drug use, consensual sex, strong language, abuse, and other adult content may be present in this story. Again, all sex in this story is consensual. If you are under 18 and/or uncomfortable with any of these subjects, please be advised that this story may not be for you.**

Leading Lady

Chapter 9 - Infirm of Purpose

EDWARD.

"_What else are you going to take off?"_

It just explodes out of me.

She doesn't look at me with fear or disgust. Rather, she flushes with what seems like... pleasure? She covers her mouth with her pale hand and I stalk away, unsure of what to do.

I can't believe what I let slip. I worry that this isn't the first time I've blurted out a pervy comment about Bella while in her presence. I really couldn't help it, I justify to myself. Seeing her peel off her jacket and step out of her shoes - even in the early afternoon chill - had me envisioning her unsnapping the top of her trousers. And now I'm wondering what kind of panties she's wearing.

"Your time starts now," I tell the class. They slowly start stepping across the lawn, their actions imperceptible at first. But as I watch them, their languid movements become like a dance to me. It's like they're trodding through molasses, like they're ice statues beginning to thaw.

It reminds me of my college days, the hours I spent in the theater doing seemingly pointless exercises. I feel a jolt of nostalgic jealousy. Again, I find myself wishing I were a student at Forks High, rather than a teacher. I'm sure it has to do with more than just wanting to take a theater class again. I gaze across the crowd. Rosalie has fire in her eyes. She's a perfectionist and I can tell she's trying to impress me. I'm not unimpressed, it's just... her determination is a little hard to look at. This is supposed to be a Zen walk. It's supposed to be quiet and calm. Smooth. Her tenacity defeats the point.

I shift my gaze to Bella. She's in her own world. I can tell she's deep within herself - undistracted. This isn't a competition for her. While her classmates are shifting their eyes back and forth from one another, gauging each other's speed, Bella's eyes are glossed over. Her movements are smooth and sensual, but there's sadness to them too. I can't help but wonder if I upset her with my comment. I think she should be: I really overstepped a line there. I can only hope that she'll take it in the good humor I meant it, and not report me.

I sit down on the steps of the theater and check my watch. It's been less than 5 minutes. Some of the students are nearly halfway across the lawn, others have moved barely a few meters. Bella is last. Her bare feet lay themselves down slowly on the grass. Heel to toe. They must be freezing.

She mesmerizes me. She's so soft - so beautiful. Her hair falls down her back and gently lifts in the breeze. Watching her move so smoothly, so calmly, I feel so lonely, so alone.

I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me today, but I allow myself to settle into my moodiness. My students move across the lawn and I allow the longing to grow inside me. I can't fight it off anymore. I decide to indulge myself. I'll let myself get close to Bella – after all, she's not pushed me away yet - I just won't ever let it get physical. I just need to be near her, I need to know her.

Jessica and Lauren finish first. _Losers_, I grumble internally. They sit down on the lawn and start quietly chatting. I don't have to energy to hush or chastise them, so I turn my attention back to those who are still walking. Emmett and Jacob are nearing the finish as well, but have significantly slowed their pace to compensate.

I check my watch again. 25 minutes have passed. Everyone has finished but Rosalie and Bella. I can tell Bella doesn't see Rosalie at her side, but Rose is using Bella as a pacesetter. She's matching her step for step. Bella is truly Zen here - she gets the point of the assignment.

They cross the line. Rosalie's head snaps toward me, looking to collect her prize. I smile at her and heave myself off the steps. I walk to the class, which has congregated at the far end of the lawn. "Wonderful job, guys. Really. Well done, especially to Rosalie and Bella. You two were very slow." I chuckle. "Okay, come on, let's go inside and warm up." I herd the class inside. Bella splits off to grab her jacket, and I watch as she steps back into her shoes.

As she walks back towards the classroom, I can tell that she's still lost somewhere. She's silent and stoic, but the slight crease in her brow gives something away. I worry.

"Everyone," I say, "please take a seat in the audience. Let's take a few minutes to reflect on both experiences we've had today - Suzuki statues and the Zen walk."

I walk around the class handing out note cards. Most of them are chatting and complaining about how lame it was or how tired they are or what they'll eat for lunch. It seems everyone, save for Bella, has shrugged the experience off. When I hand her a note card, she's massaging her left forearm with her right hand. I spot a round ring on her first finger before I raise my gaze to her face. She's sallow and sleepy looking. Just before she drops her lids again, I catch a look of sadness, of need, of loneliness mirroring mine - just for a second.

"Okay class. Please write down a word on the note card I've given to you. It can be any word, related to today or not. Fold your card in half. Please carry it in your pocket or purse or backpack or shoe or somewhere for the next week. I'm going to collect them from you on Monday, so don't lose them. 'Cause I'll find out." I snicker at them and take a seat in the back of the theater. I try to make it look haphazard as I plop down right behind Bella. She's staring blankly at her card.

I feel responsible for her sour mood, so I lean forward, intending to lighten things up a bit. "Are you ever going to smile again? Am I going to have to tickle you?"

"Stop being so mean," she snaps back. She doesn't turn to face me; she's still staring at her blank note card. I'm taken back by her affront. I think for a second that she's being sarcastic, but I can't tell. I feel horrible. I never meant to hurt this woman - I only endeavored to make her happy.

I take a post-it note out from my pocket and write in my signature green pen a little haiku -

"Charcoal and bright red,

Beautiful is the goddess.

Not meanness, only fun."

I peel it from the pad and lean forward and stick it on the note card she's holding. I get up. I won't bother her anymore. I walk up to the front of the theater and stand on the floor in front of the stage. I lean against the edge. "Alright, there are about 15 minutes left in the class. I was going to use this time to choose scene partners for next week, but you all look a bit worn. We'll do that first thing tomorrow. We'll also begin with the vocabulary words, so, Card Goddesses, don't forget to bring the cards tomorrow." I pause. "You guys can go to lunch early now, just please be quiet and don't disturb the classes that are still in session. Thanks, guys." I give an awkward wave.

Everyone jumps out of their seats and start toward the door. Bella is last, as always. She's slumped in her seat. I think she's crying. I want to go to her so badly, I want to hold her and tell her that whatever's going on, whatever I said, I'm sorry and that it'll be okay.

But I don't.

I can't. She hates me. And I'm so, so sorry.

I grab my bag and make my way to my office. Just as I'm bending to sit in my chair, Alice pops in. She's exactly what I dread, but probably exactly what I need.

"Eddie!" She's always so cheery and today it's killing me. "Did you hear about the play? Oh my gosh, I'm so excited!"

"No, Al. I haven't heard yet. Did Mrs. Meyer decide on what it should be?"

"Mhmm," she rocks back on her heels and rolls her eyes at me.

"Alright, let's have it."

"Midsummer!" she bursts.

My eyes brows rise. "As in A Midsummer Night's Dream."

"Yup," she pops.

"And how, may I ask, are you privy to this information, Mrs. Whitlock?"

She crosses her arms in front of her. "Um, hello, Edward? Costume Designer." She's so smug. "And Mrs. Meyer loves me."

"I'm sure she does, Al." I laugh. Seeing Alice has really lifted my spirits, or at least distracted me. For a second, I'm picturing my students happily running about in tutus and reciting Shakespeare. I crack a smile.

"You seem pleased,"

"Yeah, I think I am."

"Edward, what's up?" She sits in the chair opposite me. I sigh. "That bad, huh?"

"What? No, Alice. Nothing's wrong. I'm just... tired."

"Oh, Edward, come on!"

"Okay, okay! I think... I think I'm just having a hard time adjusting here. It's... quiet. And I have a lot of time to myself. I don't know." I run my hands down my face.

"I know. It's really different here, especially compared to Chicago. You'll get used to it soon. Why don't you come out with Jasper and I this Friday? We're going to go to Port Angeles to try this new restaurant. It'll feel like you're back in the big city. I'll bring a friend, so you won't feel like a third wheel. It'll be fun, I promise."

"I don't know, Alice..." I can't, I just can't.

"Either you perk up on your own Edward, or you're coming with."

I put my hands up in surrender.

"Good boy," she says. I don't know if I should strangle her or hug her. Maybe a bit of both. She jumps back out of her chair to leave. "Good talk, Edward," she calls over her shoulder.

I'm lying in bed. My hair is still wet from the shower. It's 11 PM. I'd usually consider that pretty early for a 26-year-old to be in bed, but considering I've been getting up at 7 lately, I forgive myself for my lame sleep schedule.

I'm pissed because I'm still thinking about Bella - her body moving listlessly across the lawn; her pale, bare arms marked with goosebumps, her cheeks flushing from the cold. What's worse is that I couldn't even bring myself to jack off to her in the shower. I keep hearing her call me mean.

I shake my head.

My phone chirps on the nightstand alerting me that I've gotten an email. I grab it. Anything to distract me from this thought process I seem to be constantly trapped in. The bright white of the screen fills the room with its light, and it takes my eyes a second to adjust.

It's from Bella.

My stomach hits the floor.

From: Isabella Swan

Subject: Haiku

Date: January 16, 2007 11:07PM

To: Edward Cullen

I was sarcastic

And took no offense from you

Laughter broke my lips.

Hectic schedules

Separate interest from school

When shall we meet, Ed?

-Bella

She's responding to the haiku I gave her this morning in class. She doesn't hate me. I feel a wave of relief pour over me. I'd felt so stupid all day, so awful that I'd upset her. I type back a quick response.

From: Edward Cullen

Subject: RE:Haiku

Date: January 16, 2007 11:10PM

To: Isabella Swan

Laughter, like water,

Splashes, surprises, and cools

Hot embarrassment.

Pep talk, long delayed,

Shall fill a sixth period.

In person. Coffee?

I hit send before I can even think about it. All I want to do is make it up to this girl. I want to show her that I meant no harm. And hey, she emailed first.

I realize I'm fucking beaming. My jaw is starting to hurt from smiling so hard. I have problems.

I sit my phone down on the nightstand again and roll onto my side. I'm pretty damn pleased with myself in the moment. She doesn't hate me and that feels so, so good.

My phone chirps again.

From: Isabella Swan

Subject: RE:Haiku

Date: January 16, 2007 11:14PM

To: Edward Cullen

Coffee sounds superb

Crime and Punishment does not.

Proselytize me.

And, just like that, I'm hard again.


	10. Suits of Woe

**Author's Note: The characters and settings of Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. The original content, ideas, and plot lines of this story belong to the author. The events in this story are fictional and any similarities to actual persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Additionally, this story contains subject matter not suitable for minors. Underage drinking, drug use, consensual sex, strong language, abuse, and other adult content may be present in this story. Again, all sex in this story is consensual. If you are under 18 and/or uncomfortable with any of these subjects, please be advised that this story may not be for you.**

Leading Lady

Chapter 10 - Suits of Woe

BELLA.

"I can't believe you're paired up with Jessica. That's hilarious," I laugh.

"No, you know what's hilarious? That you and Jacob are scene partners. It's fucking ridiculous. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you'd rigged the cards."

"Oh, come on, Rose. If I wanted to rig the name cards, I would have paired myself with... someone better."

"Like who? Edwaaaard?"

I cough and cast my eyes towards my hands. They're twisting together in my lap. "No. I'd pick you."

"Well, aren't you sweet? Close your eyes," she orders.

I'm sitting on a bathroom counter in Rose's parents rental apartment in Port Angeles. It's conveniently empty at the moment because they're fixing up one of the bedrooms, or something. I don't know. Rose obtained the keys somehow and decided that a raucous party is in order. I guess she thinks one god-awful hangover per season just isn't enough. Any excuse to party.

As it turns out, the great students of Forks High don't mind driving an hour out of town on a Friday night to get wasted in a cramped space. Once again, I'm so not looking forward to this.

I shut my eyes and let Rosalie finish putting my makeup on. I make a mental note to have her pay big time for the torture she sometimes inflicts on me. I have some good dirt on her, so payback shouldn't be too difficult when the time comes.

"I still think it's pretty funny that Emmett has to do a scene with Mr. Edward. It's so weird. I mean come on! It was nice of him to step in because there were odd numbers,I admit, but it's still so weird! Can you imagine?" She has to stop putting my makeup on while she laughs. I open my eyes and she's bent over with her hands on her knees. "Emmett and Edward! It's going to be awesome," she chokes out between giggles.

"I know. I can't wait. So how are things with you and Emmett?" I ask, closing my eyes again.

"Bella, you know I don't kiss and tell."

"Riiight," I drone. "That's okay. You don't need to tell anything. I saw you guys sucking face behind the science building yesterday." My shoulders shake as I giggle.

"You did not!" she screeches. "Hold still, I don't want to stab you in the eye with the mascara," she says threateningly.

"Please don't. So, what scene have you and Jessica decided to do?"

"We chose one from Angels in America. The one where Harper talks to Mr. Lies about Eskimos in Antarctica. Jessica is playing Mr. Lies. She thinks it'll show her 'range.'" Rose rolls her eyes dramatically. "I think it'll show how stupid she is."

"You're playing Harper then? Me too."

"Oh, really?" She quirks an eyebrow at me.

"Yeah. Jacob and I are doing that scene where Harper and Joe get into a fight when he comes home and she's burned his dinner, you know? We get to scream at each other, so I thought that'd be fun. I guess."

"It'll sure be fun to watch. Remind me not to suck any face during your performance, don't wanna miss a good Bella bitchfest." She hits my on my arm with the back of her hand. "You're all done. Can you go put the bag of ice in the sink? I need to get changed still."

"As always," I mutter and head to the kitchen.

I take the ice from the freezer and dump it in the kitchen sink. I rest my palms on the counter and hang my head. I try to psych myself up for tonight. Maybe having a few drinks will take my mind off things for a bit. At least for tonight.

This week has been rough. Besides the fact that I have my crush on Mr. Edward to worry about, I had to apologize to Jacob for blowing up at him. We were going to have to work together so I told him that I shouldn't have yelled at him and he agreed not to hold my hand without my verbal permission. It wasn't ideal, but it would have to do. I wasn't about to make a fool of myself by refusing the partner I'd drawn for myself. I don't want to look fussy - especially not in front of Mr. Edward.

I try so hard to be normal around him, but I know I'm blushing and stuttering and fumbling all over myself when I'm in his presence. And I'm in his presence a lot these days. I've gotten to look so forward to 8 am now. I know he's always at school, waiting for us. It gets me out of bed in the morning. But once I arrive on campus, I'm only reminded of how stupid I am. Seeing him in person, after missing him for even just a few evening hours, only affirms my fantasy that he's the most gorgeous man ever. Which only makes me feel plainer, smaller, younger.

We're supposed to spend a sixth period sometime this week talking about C&P, but we never did. I know that he's busy, especially as a new teacher, but I can't help but feel that he's avoiding me. Probably because I'm a clingy, creepy little girl who gets on his nerves.

"Bella!" The sound of Rosalie calling me from the bathroom snaps me out of my reverie.

"What?" I bite back, probably harsher than necessary.

"Emmett's downstairs. He has the beer. Can you go let him in?"

"You're welcome!" I call back at her as I head for the steps.

"Thank you," she responds in sing-song.

I hold the door open for him and let him take the steps back up before me. He sets the case of beer on the counter.

"Thanks for always getting the beer, Emmett. It's really nice of you," I say, making small talk. Even though he's dating the best friend I have in Forks - or anywhere for that matter - I still feel really awkward around him. Maybe it's just his size and athletic build that intimidates me. He kind of reminds me of Phil sometimes.

"It's no problem at all. Want one?" He holds a can out for me. I shake my head. "I didn't think so. Which is why," he says, reaching into his jacket pocket and producing a bottle of vodka, "I got you a fifth. It's only Smirnoff, but hey, it's better than beer in your opinion, no?"

"Thanks, Emmett. You didn't have to do that. How much did it cost? I'll pay you back." I head for my purse.

"Ah, ah, ah." He holds his hands out in front of me. "A gift for the hostess."

"Okay, but you know that this is Rosalie's parents place, right?"

"Yup. That's what the other fifth is for." He produces another glass bottle from the other pocket.

"Thanks, Emmett, seriously. It'll make tonight much less painful. Believe me."

"Not much of a party girl, huh?"

"Not really." I shrug.

"I get it. Don't worry about it." He cracks open a beer and takes a swig. "Hey Rosie! Bella and I are going to start drinking without you!"

"You wouldn't! I'm almost done, hold on!" she shouts down the hallway.

I roll my eyes at Emmett and head toward the fridge.

"So, what's the free booze really about, Emmett?"

"I know you saw me kissing Rose yesterday,"

"Ah, hush money. Don't worry about it."

I mix some vodka and orange soda in a plastic cup and take a tiny sip of it. Not bad. I add a little more alcohol.

"Easy there, boozy Bella," Emmett says with a chuckle.

"Don't start, Em. You gave this to me." I shake my head at him and take another sip.

Rosalie tromps down the hall in her sky-high heels. It's a good thing Emmett is tall, I think, because the girl loves her shoes. Emmett wordlessly hands Rose her fifth. He's got such a big smile on his face.

"Baby! You brought me vodka? That's so sweet! Let's do some shots before everyone gets here." She lines up three shot glasses on the counter and twists the cap off her bottle.

"That's okay, Rose. I've got a drink." I raise my glass to her.

"Shut up, Bella. You're taking this."

"Whatever," I grumble. I pick up one of the shots she's poured and raise it to my mouth. I tip it back and swallow as quickly as possible before I can taste any of the alcohol. It still burns on the way down, so I chase it with my mixed drink.

Whoa.

I sit on the counter and fiddle with my phone while Rosalie and Emmett set up cups for beer pong in the living room. Ever since Mr. Edward forced his number upon us, that thing has been burning a hole in my pocket. I know the danger of drunk dialing, so I put it in the drawer next to the sink and hope to forget it there until tomorrow.

I lean against the wall and watch as Emmett and Rose win their third straight game at beer pong. For how prissy Rose can sometimes seem, she's pretty damn tough when she wants to be. I can't deny that I'm impressed by her shot. They share a celebratory kiss, which quickly turns into a pretty heavy make-out session. I push myself off the wall. _Holy head rush. _I can't bear their PDA so I head into the kitchen to refresh my drink. I'm just pulling my vodka from the freezer where I've left it to chill, when I feel a hand push my hair away from my ear.

"Hey, Beautiful." It's Jacob.

"Hello, Jacob." I try to keep the whine out my voice. I don't think he got the memo about the flirting. I'm still not interested.

I turn around and I'm a bit disarmed by his smile. He really means no harm. I realize I'm kind of glad to see him. I'm sick of watching Rose and Em mack on each other and Angela hasn't gotten here yet, so I have no one to hang out with.

He eyes my bottle. "Wanna share some of that?" he asks, raising his eyebrows.

"Finish your beer first, Jake," I slur. Fuck, I think I'm a little drunk. Whatever.

He chugs his beer in about 3 seconds and then crushes the can in one fist. "Now you wanna share?"

"Yeah, fine. You wanna do a shot?"

"Please, Bella. Are you fucking kidding me right now? I bet I can drink two shots for every one that you do." He squints at me.

"You're on." I squint at him. I won't be shown up by an overgrown child.

I grab the shot glasses from the sink where Rose left them. I fill three shots and fill my plastic cup with a bit more vodka and orange soda.

"To Angels in America," I toast, clinking my shot glass with his two.

"To being partners," he says and downs the shots. One, two.

I take mine as fast as I can and chase with my mixed drink.

"Oh, come on Bella, that's not how you do a shot. Faster."

"Let's go, Jake," I challenge, and fill three more shots. I don't know how this became a competition, but I can't believe this kid is telling me I don't know how to drink.

I don't know how many shots we've done, but the bottle is empty. Suddenly I can't feel my legs and I'm having a hard time focusing my eyes.

"Whoa there, Bells."

"'SsBella. 'Kay?"

"Okay, Bella. Maybe we should have a seat."

"Mmm, sitting sounds good."

"Okay, just this way." Jacob wraps his arm around my waist and starts me down the hall. I don't have the ware withal to protest against this physical contact. I suddenly just want to sleep.

He opens the door to one of the rooms off the hall. There's a bed here, thank god. Jacob leads me over to a chair in the corner.

"No," I whine, "I want the bed."

"Is that so?" he whispers in my ear.

I flop down on the bed and let the blackness close in.

"Bella, baby, don't sleep. You might get sick, besides we can't have any fun that way."

His hands are in my hair and running down my neck. I don't care. I just want to lay here. Maybe if I stay really still, he'll think I'm sleeping and go away.

He doesn't.

"Bella," he whispers in my ear. "Bellaaa."

His lips are on my jaw, inching towards my mouth. They are cold and smell like vodka.

I turn my face into the pillow and try to ignore him.

"Ah, we got a live one," he says. His hands run along my neck and down to my collarbone. They pause there for a moment before they slide over my shirt and down my chest. I cringe and withdraw from the touch.

"Don't," I groan. I just want to be left alone. Why can't he understand this?

I'm so tired.

"It's okay, baby, I'm not going to hurt you." His voice is calm and smooth. Level.

The hands descend further down to my waist and over my hips. They slip under my shirt and I feel them graze my bare stomach.

"Please stop." I want to get up but I can't, I'm so tired. I push at his hands with my own.

"I know you like it."

"I don't."

"You will," he says, and strokes my stomach up and down. Thumbs run alone the underwire of my bra. Back and forth.

My mind is black and empty. I feel the darkness closes in further. I block out the sensation of one of my bra cups being pushed to the side.

I just lie there.

_This too shall pass_, I think.

I feel a hand brush the button of my jeans. The button gets pushed through the hole and I feel fingers slip under my waistband. He starts tugging at my jeans and something snaps inside me.

The gravity of what is happening to me comes crashing down in a wave of clarity. My eyes split open.

"Stop it!" I shout without thinking.

I push myself sloppily off the bed. I nearly fall over, but I right myself before Jacob can try to catch me. "Don't touch me," I growl.

"Jeez, Bells, you're the one who wanted the bed."

"Yeah, but I don't want you!" Tears are streaming down my face. Fuck. I push past him towards the door. I need Rose. I need to go home.

Jacob grabs at my wrist as I go. I just sob at him and pull my arm away. It's somewhere between a cry and a scream. Maybe I'm laughing, I can't tell. I beg him with my eyes to leave me be. He unfolds his fingers from around my arm.

It aches.

I stumble into the hall. Where's Rose? I can't find her. Can't find Angela either. Tears are rolling down my cheeks and no one seems to notice. Some boys are playing beer pong, and a group of girls are watching.

The air in here feels thick. I can't breathe.

I have to get out of here. I have to get out of here.

I snatch my purse up. Fuck, I didn't drive. Rose did. How am I going to get home? I think to call my father. He'll be up at the station, no doubt. Awake, at least. I can't bother him at work. And he'd be upset with me. I fish around in my purse for my phone. Where is it? I can't find it.

I feel my chest heaving up and down. It feels so tight. I need my phone. I start glancing about the apartment. Still, no one has noticed me. I try to think. I pat my pockets. I dump my purse out on the counter.

The shot glasses are there by the sink...

My mind turns slowly and I remember Rose coming down the hall, and before that Emmett.

My phone is in the drawer.

I pull it open roughly and the contents slide around a bit. I try to focus my eyes long enough to see it lying there.

I grab it and run down the stairs. I miss the last step and fall. I scrape my knee and tear a hole in my jeans. They're still unbuttoned. My hands are shaking and I can't button them back up. I don't care.

I push the door open and stumble out onto the street. It's cold and all I'm carrying is my phone. I don't have my coat. I don't have my purse either. I left it upstairs, its contents spilled out. I can't go back inside. I can't go back in. What if Jacob's waiting for me? I can't deal with him.

I stare at my phone. I have no one to call.

My face is wet and it's so cold. I worry my tears will freeze to my face.

His words ring in my head._ Call me if you need anything. I'm serious._

I scroll down to his number. I hit send and hold the phone to my ear with a trembling hand.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Edward?" I sob into the phone.

**A/N: Reading your reviews every week makes me so happy. Keep them coming, dear readers!**


	11. We Came Crying Hither

**Author's Note: The characters and settings of Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. The original content, ideas, and plot lines of this story belong to the author. The events in this story are fictional and any similarities to actual persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Additionally, this story contains subject matter not suitable for minors. Underage drinking, drug use, consensual sex, strong language, abuse, and other adult content may be present in this story. Again, all sex in this story is consensual. If you are under 18 and/or uncomfortable with any of these subjects, please be advised that this story may not be for you.**

**Hey Lovelies, My apologies for the delay in this chapter. I think I partied a bit too hard on my birthday and got myself a good case of the sickies. In any case, here's the new chapter! I'm hoping to get back on the Monday-posting schedule for next week. I love you all and reviews are greatly appreciated. Thanks C Shell, my beautiful beta.**

**Update: Leading Lady will be on hiatus for an undetermined period of time. Please accept my deepest apologies. It'll be worth the wait, I promise.**

Leading Lady

Chapter 11 - We Came Crying Hither

EDWARD.

"Isabella?"

"Mr. Cullen. I'm so cold," she sobs.

_What the fuck?_

"What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Nevermind. I shouldn't have called you."

"No, no, no. Bella, wait. Tell me what's wrong."

"I can't."

"Yes, you can. It's okay."

My mind is spinning and I don't even have time to process the fact that she's called me, of all people, when she chokes out, "Edward, please." It sounds like she can't catch her breath. Her whimpering breaks my goddamn heart. I start to curse myself for being in Port Angeles tonight. I knew there was a reason to stay in Forks. Bella needs help and it'll take me forever to get to her.

And I'm so pissed at Alice for dragging me out to this stupid restaurant tonight. True, I kind of needed to get out of the house. Just not this far out. I'm an hour away from home. I want to go back to our table and scream at Alice. I'm sure she's blissfully dipping into her creme brulee, unaware of the fact that she's single-handedly ruined my life.

Okay, maybe she hasn't ruined my life, but I'm so worried right now that I can't think straight. I need to make myself useful and start thinking proactively. _Focus, Cullen._

"Alright, well, where are you? I'll come get you and take you home. We can talk in person, okay? Where are you?"

"Port Angeles." _What? She's in Port Angeles? Here?_

Relief washes over me. She's near.

"Where in Port Angeles?"

"I don't know, Edward." She starts sobbing again.

"It's okay. Bella, shh, it's okay. Do you see any street signs near you?"

"I don't know. Yes."

"What do they say, Bella?" I can tell she's wasted and I'm trying not to get irritated with her, but knowing that she's by herself, drunk, and apparently cold is wearing thin on my nerves.

"Ummm, Seventh Street and Cedar Street. I'm sorry…"

"It's okay - just stay right there. Stay put and I'll come to get you. Can you please do that, Bella?"

"Okay."

"I'm going to hang up now. Don't move."

"Bye."

I look up directions on my phone. She's only a few blocks away. I head straight to my car. I don't even go back into the restaurant to say goodbye to Alice and Jasper. I'll make something up later.

As I make my way across town, I feel as though I might combust from anxiety. My hands are shaking on the wheel. My eyes are constantly moving and scanning the blocks.

I pull up to where she said she'd be. I don't see her. _Fucking Christ, where is she? _I feel a twinge of anger towards her for not listening to me, but she has been drinking… Wait, what if she doesn't even remember that she just spoke with me on the phone? Anger quickly turns to worry, and my chest aches as I think of all the horrible things that could possibly be happening to her right now.

I park illegally and get out of my car. She's right: it is really cold. I pull my blazer tighter across my chest and start walking down the block. It's fucking dark out here. I strain my eyes, searching intently for her chestnut hair and milk-white skin.

Then I see her.

She's sitting on the curb a little ways down from me, cupping her face in both hands. I start to run.

"Bella!" I shout. She doesn't even look up at me. When I reach her, I don't know what to do at first. I should avoid touching her because she's my student and I don't want to break any rules. But there is the part of me that wants to, just not when she's drunk. Above anything, however, she does need immediate help. So I crouch down next to her.

I gently sweep the hair out of her face. It's like silk. I mentally slap myself and force myself to focus. Her eyes are closed and her mouth is slack. I place my hand on her shoulder. "Bella, are you okay?" I ask. What a stupid question to ask when she's likely unconscious and certainly not okay. But I don't know what else to say.

She hums in response.

"Isabella, it's Edward. Mr. Cullen. You called me, remember? It's cold out here so let me take you home. My car is right over there."

"No!" She shouts with all the energy that a half-asleep person could muster.

"Please, Bella. You'll catch cold out here. Let's get you safely home."

"Don't take me home," she slurs.

"Why not? Where else should I drive you?"

She starts crying again. My heart aches as I watch tear after tear roll down her face. "I have no where to go. My dad thinks I'm at Rosalie's for the weekend... but I can't stay there anymore!"

"Okay, okay. Uhm, fuck," I mutter. "Let's just get in the car and warm up. While I drive, we can think of a safe place for you to go." I know exactly where I want to take her, but it is the last place she should go.

"Okay," she tries to push herself off the curb, but is unable to support herself in her current state. I grasp the tops of her shoulders and help her up... she's tiny and trembling from the cold. I hold onto her arm as I lead her towards my car, but she stumbles and I barely catch her before she hits the sidewalk. She takes a long time to steady herself and I'm desperate to get her warm.

I pick her up and carry her to my car. I have to kind of awkwardly lean her against my chest as I open the passenger door, but I manage to get it open. I place her in the seat and recline it a little so she can sleep. I have to lean across her to buckle her seatbelt, and fuck, even through the smell of vodka, I notice that she smells good.

I take off my blazer and drape it over her. She nuzzles it and sighs. Maybe she likes my scent too.

I push that thought aside, take a deep breath and go around to the driver's side and get in the car as well. It's about an hour back to Forks and I need to figure out where to take Bella. I don't know why she can't go back to Rosalie's, but I figure it has something to do with the reason why she's been crying. I understand her not wanting to return home to her father after an upsetting night, but honestly that's probably the best place for her right now.

I briefly consider calling Alice and asking her if Bella can stay with her for a night, but I don't want to have to explain why Bella is with me - and intoxicated - in the first place. Teachers at Forks High School give out their number to students in case of emergency, and I am doing the right thing, but I know how this could look. Though this situation is innocent and she called me for help, I can't deal with rumors potentially starting about Bella and me, especially since I do have feelings for her. My thoughts haven't always been completely pure.

I pull onto Highway 101 with Bella sleeping quietly next to me. The color has come back to her cheeks. I'm relieved that she's warming up. She shifts and my jacket falls away from her, exposing her rich, creamy skin. I want to reach over and cover her up again, but I don't trust myself. I'll either find myself stroking the length of her arm, or wrapping the Volvo around a phone pole.

Her eyes flutter open. A delirious, sleepy smile spreads across her face. "Edward?"

"Hey, Bella. I'm driving us back to Forks, remember?" She nods and closes her eyes again.

"Don't take me to my dad's," she reiterates. "Not good when the police chief's daughter has been drinking."

"Don't worry, Bella. I won't. Is there somewhere else I should take you?"

She shrugs and rolls her head away from me. I can't tell if she's sleeping again or just looking out the window.

A long silence stretches out between us. I press play on my CD player. The same Van Morrison album I've been spinning for weeks now comes back on. I tap my fingers on the wheel as Van croons. We drive in a pleasant quiet, the only sounds that fill the car coming from Van and the whine of the saxophone. Then Bella starts humming.

I'm more surprised than anything that she's still awake, but then it dawns on me that she's humming along.

"I didn't take you for a Van fan," I say in a whisper.

"Yeah. I find it comforting," she whispers back.

"Me too. Does your dad like him or something?" I guess that I didn't expect Bella to know anything about Van Morrison because she's so young. I'm pretty impressed with this girl right now. I shake my head and chuckle. I expect her to ask what's so funny, but she just keeps humming along. A Van fan, indeed.

As we drive further and further, Bella's humming grows quieter and weaker. It's so sweet and low that it really almost hurts me to hear it. I start to wonder just how multitalented this Swan girl is.

Bella grows silent again. I continue tapping my fingers as the road stretches out in front of me.

When I pull up to our street, Bella is fast asleep again. Her head leans against the window and each of her breaths fogs the glass. Since her father works the night shift, it would be so easy to do the right thing and take her to her own house.

Though I don't know or understand her reasoning against this, I just really want to do right by Bella. The fact of the matter is that she trusts me enough to call me for a ride when she needs one. This means a lot, and I don't want to break that trust when she's also asked me not to take her to her father's.

I don't know what caused her to call me in the first place, but she seemed pretty upset, and I want to be available should she ever need my help again. I resolve to find out what happened and do my best to ensure that whatever it was, that it never happens to Bella again.

I can't bear the thought of her hurting.

I carefully pull my blazer from her. "Bella, we're here. You can sleep at my house tonight if I can't take you any place else."

She doesn't answer. Just her breath rhythmically painting the window. I poke her arm. "Bella...?" She's still asleep.

I get out of the car and walk around to her side. I open her door slowly, careful not to let her fall out, and hope that the cold air will help to wake her.

I sigh when she doesn't wake, and stoop down to lift her out of the seat. This time I have to sort of carry her over one shoulder and support her with one arm while I fish in my pocket for my house keys.

It's a very difficult thing to do when Bella's ass is right next to my face.

When I get to my door and finally get it open, I have to put her down right away. She's slipping out of my arms and it's near impossible to keep my thoughts clean when I'm so aware that her crotch is pressed to my chest.

I set her down on the couch. She moans and immediately snuggles into it. I had been planning on letting her sleep comfortably in my bed upstairs while I took the couch, but it looks like she's pretty much settled there and I don't want to disturb her rest after the ordeal she's been through tonight. I just pull a blanket off the back of the couch to cover her. I also pick up one of those decorative pillows that Alice forced me into buying, and gently lift Bella's head so I can put it under her. I let my thumb brush along her jaw line. She sighs and leans into my touch.

_I have to get out of here._

I stand up straight and go to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water and some Advil that she can take when she wakes up. I set it down on the coffee table next to her and I head upstairs to my bedroom.

I lie on my back for hours. I make believe that I can hear Bella's restful breathing, pretend I can feel her warmth rising through the floorboards.

Despite my best efforts, she has gotten under my skin. I've watched her carefully from the day I first met her. Not only is she beautiful, but she's smart and witty and clever. I've seen her with her friends. She's unafraid to stand up for herself and while she has a good head on her shoulders, I can tell she likes to bend the rules a little. I can see that she carries a lot of pain and I want to be able to help her. I know there's probably nothing I can do, and my abilities as a teacher are probably limited, but I can't ignore the hurt behind her eyes, or the fact that she cried on the phone with me tonight.

I know what it's like to feel that you have no one to talk to, and I imagine that could be what Bella is feeling right now. Her resistance in returning to her father's house concerns me, but then again, I also resist returning to my father's house. I guess I really can't blame her.

This draw I feel to her is so fucking inexplicable and intense. What once was sexual, physical, and fantasy has become emotional and personal. I can't look at her without seeing myself. Every time I think of her, I feel a little ill at ease.

I want so badly to go downstairs and hold her, talk to her. I want to know what happened tonight and I want to know how to fix it.

I stay put. I've already crossed so many lines tonight - best to not make it another.

The fact that she actually called me for help steels my confidence a bit. And if she didn't want to be here, she wouldn't be. At least I can rest assured that I'm not doing anything against her will, and I don't want to. Still, I can't help but wonder if beyond the limitations of age and student-teacher status, perhaps she wouldn't want me in any way if we were on an even playing field.

It's getting so late that it's early. I force my eyes shut and eventually drift asleep.

I'm dreaming that I'm warm and laying in my bed with Bella. Her hair smells sweet and her skin is creamy, her legs soft against me. I realize she's crying and that her tears are wetting my shirt. I try to wipe the tears away, but there are so many that the room starts to fill with them. I'm drowning in them. I can't breathe.

I wake with a jolt.

And I'm not alone.


	12. We Two Alone Will Sing

**Author's Note: The characters and settings of Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. The original content, ideas, and plot lines of this story belong to the author. The events in this story are fictional and any similarities to actual persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Additionally, this story contains subject matter not suitable for minors. Underage drinking, drug use, consensual sex, strong language, abuse, and other adult content may be present in this story. Again, all sex in this story is consensual. If you are under 18 and/or uncomfortable with any of these subjects, please be advised that this story may not be for you.**

**Readers, thanks so, so much for sticking with me during the hiatus! I had/have mono. So there's my excuse. But, fear not, the wait is over! I'll resume the Monday evening posting schedule. Lots and lots of love to you all, but especially to C Shell who has put a lot of work into helping this story be the best it can be. And to EdwardVenom, thank you for your support as always!**

Leading Lady

Chapter 12 – We Two Along Will Sing

BELLA.

My mom and Phil are fighting.

Phil came home drunk from his poker night and now they're having their weekly blow out. Must be Thursday. I could set my watch by it.

I pull my blankets over my head and imagine a family of bunnies living in the countryside. They have a vegetable garden out back and the baby bunnies are setting the table for dinner while the daddy bunny helps the mommy bunny cook. They're making carrot stew.

"I fucking love you, is that not enough?" I hear Renee scream.

"If you love me than why do you treat me this way? I treat you like a fucking queen," Phil shouts back.

The bunnies are sitting down to dinner now.

"Oh yeah? Oh yeah, Phil? Is this how you treat a queen?" Renee's hand meets Phil's cheek. I can hear it all through the paper-thin wall of my bedroom. Big mistake. She's done this before, and I know what comes next.

Phil shoves her against the wall. I head her head bounce off the sheetrock somewhere near the foot of my bed. She starts screaming louder and calling him names.

Now he's sorry. He's just so fucking sorry. I can hear her crying and I know he must be comforting her.

I try to obliterate my senses. But I can still hear them. Renee moans his name and I've had enough. I pick up my blanket and pillow, go downstairs, and lay my bedding out on the couch. It's quieter down here, not by much, but still.

I fall asleep to the low, rhythmic sound of a bedpost hitting a wall upstairs.

"Wake up, you little bitch." He slaps me across the cheek.

I start awake. I'm sweating and tired and my head hurts. I groan and shut my eyes again. I just want to go back to sleep and dream of nothing at all, but all I see behind my eyelids are the two shiny rows of Phil's teeth.

I hate sleeping on couches.

My head feels gummed up, but there are a few things I know. One, I'm hung-over... or possibly still drunk. Two, I'm at Edward's house. Not exactly sure how I ended up here, but I do remember clutching his arm as he led me to his car and the smell of his jacket as he laid it on me. Three, I'm scared shitless.

I look around. The clock on the cable box says it's a little past 3. It's dark out, so it must mean AM. There's a glass of water and some pills on the coffee table. Seeing them reminds me of how badly my head hurts. I take the pills and drink the entire glass of water.

I can't lie on this couch any longer; the feel of the armrest against the back of my head makes my heart pound. I get up and walk to the kitchen. I refill the glass of water and set it on the sink.

Then it hits me. Jacob.

My mind churns backwards and the pieces start to fall back into place. There are some definite blank spots, but... fuck, I remember. My chest constricts. I try to catch my breath. I remember the feel of Jake's hands on me.

I don't want them to, but the tears come anyway. I'm in Edward Cullen's kitchen at 3 AM and I'm crying. And I need him so much. My mind is telling me to go back to the couch and lie down. Go think of something else. Bunnies or something. But I can't.

I need to see him. I only want to just see him and remember that he took care of me when I needed him to. I need to feel like I'm not alone.

So I walk towards the steps. I take them one by one, hoping each time I step that I'll find the courage to turn around and go back to the couch, but I don't and soon I'm at the top.

I can hear him snoring and the relief that he's real is almost enough to fix me. I follow the sound.

The door of his bedroom is slightly ajar. I push it gently and it opens. He's sleeping, as I should be. His hair is a wild mess across his white pillow and one foot peeks out from under his comforter. I stand there for a long time, just looking at him, as his chest rises and falls.

I feel my eyelids beginning to droop. I'm so tired, but I can't turn around. Maybe this is all a dream. I take a step inside the door. He doesn't move, so I take another, and another, until I'm standing right by his bed. He's still sleeping. He has no idea I'm even in here.

I know I shouldn't, but I don't think he'll notice, so I slowly sit down on the edge of the bed.

"Bella," he sighs. I twitch.

I've been caught. Fuck. I don't know whether to stay or go. _Should I say something?_

"Bella," he says again. "Just sleep now." His fingers brush against the side of my forearm and I lie down next to him.

Sleep comes almost before my head even touches the pillow.

Edward's bedroom window faces east - towards mine. The morning sunlight is streaming in and I'm so warm. I can feel the beads of sweat starting to build up along my hairline. I want to move, leave this heat, but I can't.

I'm lying in Edward's bed. His arm is wrapped protectively around me and I can feel his hard chest pressed against my back. I'm afraid if I move, I'll wake him up. And I don't know what he'll say or do when he realizes that he's holding me in his bed. I know that he'll wake up eventually anyway, but I've been lying awake for a while just enjoying the feel of his arms around me. I know this won't last long, so I pretend he loves me.

I think for a second that I should just make a run for it and avoid all the awkwardness, but then again, I still have no where to go. [I think deviously that my father is probably now sleeping across the street - his shift just ended. I'm so close to where he is... but I'm lying in the arms of my very attractive teacher. It's all so wrong, but I kind of like it.

I've disobeyed anyone in my life. Especially my father. I'm always very careful to follow instructions, and never give anyone any reason to worry. I know Charlie would be extremely worried if I told him about last night, or this morning…

I know I can't tell anyone about what happened with Jacob. First of all, everyone thinks we're friends – they'll probably say I wanted it. And secondly, I don't want to get him in trouble. He was my first friend in Forks and besides last night and a few annoying and uncomfortable moments, he's been really good to me. I can't hate him because of one drunken moment.

But I kind of do hate him.

Knowing I'll have to keep this to myself hurts a little. But it also fills me with a sort of mischievous pleasure. Feels like I'm breaking the rules; having a secret to myself feels good for once.

I close my eyes again, deciding to luxuriate in the moment. Edward's arms are still wrapped closely around me. A heavy sigh escapes my chest.

"Bella?"

I freeze. "Yeah, it's me." _What a fucking stupid thing to say. _I mentally hit myself in the head. "I'm going now."

I start to get up, but his hand lightly grabs my wrist. "Wait," he whispers. I stop and sit at the edge of the bed. I'm still wearing the sparkly top Rose forced me into and my jeans.

I wait for him to say something, but he doesn't.

"I'm sorry that I slept in your bed. It's just... I hate couches, I'm sorry. And I'm sorry that I even called you. That was wrong. I crossed a line. I can go now, if you like."

"Bella, I wouldn't have given my number to you guys and told you to call in case you needed anything if I didn't mean it. I'm glad I could be of help." He pauses. I can feel the bed shift, but I don't turn around and face him. "As for sleeping in my bed, don't worry about it. I had meant to give it to you. I would have slept downstairs, it's just... you passed out. I didn't want to wake you. I'm sorry."

"Okay," I whisper. I pretty much want to die. This has to be the worst, most awkward moment of my life.

"Bella, I'm sorry if me touching you made you... uncomfortable. It was unintentional and I wasn't aware that I was until I woke up."

"That's okay," I say, because it really was more than okay.

"How do you feel?"

"Hung-over," I snort.

"That's understandable. How much did you have to drink last night?"

"I lost count. A few beers, I think. And a lot of vodka." I rub the back of my neck as I turn to finally face him.

"I know just the cure for what ails you. You probably want a shower. My bathroom is straight through there. You can put these on when you get out." He pushes himself out of bed. He's wearing only a while t-shirt and a pair of boxers. I immediately look away. Oh my god. I stare at my hands. A pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt just like the one Edward's wearing flop down on the bed next to me. "They'll be a bit big, but..." he trails off. "Feel free to use the towels in there."

"Thanks," I mutter. I'm still looking at my hands.

"I'll meet you downstairs."

I stand in front of the mirror in his bathroom for a minute. There's mascara smudged on my cheek. I look awful. Great. I push away the thought that Edward has seen me like this, and step into the shower. The hot water soothes my headache and I start to relax. My knee is completely skinned and the water burns a bit, but I just think of it as punishment for being stupid enough to get into a drinking war with a guy twice my size.

My stomach rolls as I think of Jacob again. I'm so fucking nauseated I think I might pass out. I press my hand against the wall of the shower and wait for it to pass. I use Edward's soap. It smells manly and rich. I inhale the scent deeply and I start to feel better.

I can't get over the fact that I'm naked in Edward Cullen's house. It is so weird. But then again, this is exactly where I want to be. Which should be disconcerting in and of itself. _I'm so fucked in the head_. I prayed for this, but I never thought it would happen this way.

I finish up and step out. The room is filled with steam. I wrap myself in one of the towels hanging on the back of the door.

I put my bra and underwear back on. I wear my panties inside out because, really, I have no other choice. I shrug into the t-shirt Edward laid out for me. It's huge and I'm practically swimming in it. It looks like a dress on me, but I put the sweatpants on anyway. I have to roll the waistband down several times to make them kind of fit, but whatever.

When I get downstairs Edward is standing at the counter drinking a cup of coffee and reading the newspaper. He's got on a pair of jeans and he just looks absolutely delicious. If I didn't feel like I was on my fucking deathbed, I'd... well, I don't know what I'd do. I want to go touch him. Hug him. Kiss him. But I can't. And I don't.

"Feeling any better?" He asks when he looks up from his paper.

"Not really," I shake my head.

"We can work on that. Have a seat. Coffee?"

I blush, remembering the email he sent me last week asking me to coffee. _Well, here I am,_ I think. I nod wordlessly and he turns to get a cup out of the cupboard. I try to keep my eyes off his jean-clad butt, but it's difficult. I kind of giggle to myself and think about how lucky I am. I'm sure Angela would just about pop with jealousy if she knew where I was right now. Not that she'll ever find out.

I wonder what happened to her last night. Maybe she never came to the party. I wouldn't know... My stomach rolls again, and I shake my head to myself. _Ugh._

"Cream, sugar?" he asks as he sets a cup down in front of me.

"No, thanks." I smile into my cup and inhale the sweet smell of hangover relief.

"I'm sorry that my couch wasn't to your liking. I know that thing is uncomfortable."

"No," I look up at him. "No, it's not your couch... just couches in general."

"Why's that?" He pulls up a stool across the counter from me. He must see my pained expression because before I can think of a way to lie to him, he says, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. It's okay."

"No, it's just... it's complicated."

"I'm sure I can keep up." He cracks a half-smile. And I'm right in the palm of his hand. I cannot lie to this man.

"Um, I spent a lot of time sleeping on the couch in Arizona. It became... necessary." He doesn't say anything, just looks at me dead in the eye. His expression is soft and open. It's as if he's saying, _Go on..._

"My mom re-married this guy, Phil. He was a baseball player. Really athletic. And intimidating. They, uh, they used to fight. And then…" I feel myself blush. _Why am I even telling him this?_ "They would, uh, have loud make-up sex." _There, I said it. _I can't look at him, but keep talking. "The walls were really thin. One minute I would hear her screaming and the sound of him hitting her... and then, well, you know. I didn't know how to deal with it, I hated hearing it, so I would move downstairs to the couch. But Phil hated seeing me on the couch in the morning. To him it would mean I heard them and that I knew what he did to her. So, uh, he'd make his anger known."

"Why?" Edward whispers, his brow furrowed.

"I don't know. He threatened to really hurt me if I ever told any one what he did to Renee. As if they couldn't see it all over face," I laugh humorlessly. "Or mine."

I take a sip of my coffee and try to focus on the rich, bitter taste, but I can feel the tears begging to come out.

"Bella," he whispers. I look up at him and the expression on his face completely breaks me down. I feel the tears start streaming down my cheeks. It seems I've done nothing but cry in front of him.

"Bella," he says again. "I'm sorry you had to go through that. I really am. No one should have to deal with that. Especially you." He looks surprised by his own words, but he doesn't look away from me.

"Thanks, Mr. Cullen." I frown.

"Please, call me Edward. Especially if it's just us two." He says it like we're going to be alone a lot. I'm smirking on the inside, but on the outside I still look miserable.

"Okay... Edward."

"You must be glad to be here in Forks with your dad, then."

"Yeah, I guess. I kind of had no choice. When you file a restraining order against both of your caretakers, they ship you off to the closest relative. I'm lucky to have Charlie, really. He and I don't have much in common. He keeps going between ignoring me and over-parenting. I mean, he works at night, so I just don't see much of him."

Edward ignores the fact that I just told him I have a restraining order against my own mother. "When is he expecting you back?"

"Uhm… tonight, but after he's asleep. Is it okay if I hang here until he gets back? I don't want to throw off the plan, you know?"

"Yeah, you can stay as long as you like. You hungry? I have some leftover pizza."

"Sounds perfect."

He takes a pizza box out of the fridge and puts a couple of slices on a plate. "Are two pieces enough?"

"Oh, definitely."

He pops them in the microwaves and prepares a plate for himself.

"So, why were you in Port Angeles last night?"

"I could ask you the same thing." I quirk an eyebrow at him.

"I asked you first."

"I was at a party at Rosalie's parent's rental. It's vacant at the moment and perfect for teenage debauchery." I roll my eyes.

"I see. I take it you're not one for debauchery."

"I guess it's just not my scene."

"Is that why you called me for a ride?"

"Yeah, uh-huh," I mumble into my coffee.

"You're a terrible liar, Bella. Besides, I saw the tear in your jeans. What happened? Is your knee okay?"

"Yeah, it's fine." I try to avoid answering the real question.

"Seriously, Bella. What's going on? I'm here."

"Things just got a bit intense. I was too drunk."

"Okay," he lets it go and places the pizza in front of me.

"Thanks." I say, and blow on it to cool it down. "So, Edward," I say mockingly, "what brought you to Forks?"

He puts his pizza in the microwave. "Change of scenery," he shrugs.

"You're a terrible liar."

"I'm sorry." He pauses. "I, uh, I really did need a change of scenery. I was living a bit too close to my parents. Alice seemed really far away. And the temptation of having a job straight out of grad school was too much to resist."

"But...?"

"I don't know. I really had hoped to go into directing."

"You always have the spring play!" I say sarcastically.

"Yeah, I know," he laments.

"I was joking. Edward, if you want to be a director, be a director. I don't really see what's stopping you."

"I just felt like I _had _to come to Forks."

I nod. "I know the feeling," I say, and take a bite of my pizza.

Edward takes a seat next to me on the couch. He maintains a safe distance, but he's still right next to me. I smile.

His hair is wet from the shower and he's changed his clothes. He's wearing a vintage Beatles shirt and a different pair of jeans.

"What are you watching?"

"I don't know. Some home improvement show. I'm just glad to be watching something other than baseball."

"I see," he says.

We watch the show together in silence for some time. A young couple is picking out their first home together. They're looking mostly at spacious pre-fab homes with all the bells and whistles. I find it a little gross.

"I'm not into this whole McMansion thing. Kind of grosses me out to be honest," Edward says.

I can't help but giggle.

"Me too. I prefer a house with character, even if it's smaller," I reply, and then shift a little in my seat to face him. "Do you own this house?"

"Yeah, uhm, Alice picked it and I bought it sight unseen. I had no idea what I was getting myself into, but Alice said I would love it, so I believed her."

"I really like it. She chose well."

"Thanks," he says. "Yeah, I like it a lot better than my apartment back in Chicago. Or my parents home – now _that _was a fucking McMansion." His eyes go wide. "Sorry."

"I'm not a child, Edward. I've heard that word before."

"I know you're not a child, Bella." He smiles at me.


	13. Comfort in Despair

**Author's Note: The characters and settings of Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. The original content, ideas, and plot lines of this story belong to the author. The events in this story are fictional and any similarities to actual persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Additionally, this story contains subject matter not suitable for minors. Underage drinking, drug use, consensual sex, strong language, abuse, and other adult content may be present in this story. Again, all sex in this story is consensual. If you are under 18 and/or uncomfortable with any of these subjects, please be advised that this story may not be for you.**

**Thanks, C Shell! *squeeeeeze***

Leading Lady

Chapter 13 - Comfort in Despair

EDWARD.

I'm so comfortable with Bella that I' m almost uncomfortable.

She's been sitting on my couch, wearing my sweatpants, eating my Doritos, and watching my bad cable television for the last few hours. I've been trying to keep my eyes fixed on the TV and our conversations on neutral subjects, but the way she's been running her hands through her hair is highly distracting.

The show about houses ends and she changes the channel. She lands on Law and Order. It's about halfway through. There's a lot of gunfire and I'm actually pretty into it. As much fun as it was planning out my dream house with Bella, I knew that conversation wasn't going to lead anywhere good. A shoot 'em up show will do just fine.

I'm clenching my fists and sort of imitating the movements of the police officers from my couch when I hear the remote drop. When I pull my attention away from the TV, Bella is scuttling across the living room to the first floor bathroom. She doesn't even take the time to shut the door before I hear her vomit into the toilet.

My usual instincts around a puking girl are to avoid, avoid, avoid; but for some reason I find myself getting up off the couch and going to her. She's sitting on the floor of the bathroom with tears in her fucking eyes, wiping her mouth with the hem of her t-shirt.

"Sorry. This is gross. You shouldn't have to see this," she says, as she reaches to flush the toilet.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I, uh..." she drifts. I watch as panic settles in her eyes, and as though guided by instinct, I crouch down and reach for her hair. I pull it out of her face right before she vomits again.

I stroke the back of her damp neck and comb the strands of hair from her eyes. When she's finished, I hand her a washcloth. She can't even look at me to take it, so I wipe her mouth myself and reach over to the sink to fill a cup of water.

"Here. Rinse your mouth," I urge. Again, she doesn't look up at me, so I place the cup in her small, pale hands. "Please, Bella?" She nods minutely and sips the water. While she rinses, I search the cabinet for a spare toothbrush. I find one and pop it out of its wrapper. "You'll want to brush your teeth, I'm sure." I squirt a little toothpaste on it. "I'll be right back. Just gonna grab you a clean shirt."

She's so quiet. It worries me. Maybe she's just embarrassed. I run up the stairs as quickly as I can and hurry back down to her with a new tee. It's lucky that I have about a thousand of them. What can I say? I like my clothes to be fresh.

When I get back down to her, she's standing at the sink and grasping the counter weakly. "Here, Bella. Change," I say quietly and shut the door.

I feel like I'm bossing her around, but I just want her taken care of. I really hope she's okay. Hangovers are awful. One minute she's blabbing on about houses with character and the next minute she's puking her cute little brains out in my spare bathroom. The door cracks open.

"What should I do with the dirty one, Mr… Edward?" she croaks from the doorway.

"Just throw it in the bathtub. I'll get it later," I shout back at her from the kitchen. I'm digging in the fridge for a ginger ale. I know I've got a can in here somewhere.

"It's really gross, though," she says.

"I know, I saw. But it's okay. Just come sit on the couch. You looked a little pale."

She sort of does this lazy saunter out of the bathroom and flops down on the couch. I finally get my hands on that ginger ale and pour it in a cup. I bring it over to her. She tucks her feet under her and takes the cup.

"Thanks," she groans.

"Some hangover, huh?"

"I think it was the TV. I can't stomach violence. Even simulated violence. It's gross."

"I see." I can see the topic's not open for conversation, and really, she's already shared so much with me today that I don't question her. She greedily gulps down the soda and hiccups as she places the glass back down on the table.

"Excuse me," she blushes and covers her mouth with the back of her hand. Her upturned wrist reveals four distinct bruises. The pattern mimics the shape fingers would make if they were wrapped around her arm.

I didn't notice them last night when I picked her up, and at first I worry that maybe I inflicted them on her by accident when we were sleeping. The thought first warms my heart and then absolutely revolts me. The feel of Bella pressed against me when I woke up was undeniably pleasant, but the idea that I could have _harmed _her is absolutely disgusting.

I can't imagine what kind of grip would be strong enough to leave a mark, though. And though it is possible that I could have desperately clung to her in my sleep, I don't think I would have mustered up enough strength to actually bruise her.

I don't want to ask her where they're from because I don't want to intrude or make her uncomfortable, but the idea of someone grabbing Bella so hard that it actually bruised... I mean, fuck. I'm seeing red.

"Where'd you get those?" I say as nonchalantly as possible, and gesture to her wrist.

She turns her arm back on itself and gazes impassively at her tiny, white wrist. Her expression is blank, almost bored. The corner of her mouth turns up and she kind of raises her eyebrows. "Oh, someplace or other," she says lamely.

I'm shocked by her indifferent reaction. I expected at least a bad lie or an 'I don't want to talk about it.' This worries me. How can she be so unaffected, so dispassionate about her injuries?

"Bella, really. Those look pretty bad. Who grabbed you?" I ask, a little more fervently.

She rolls her eyes. She actually rolls her eyes at me like I'm her fucking mother catching her coming in after curfew. I know I shouldn't be getting angry at a person I'm this concerned about - it doesn't make any sense - but I am. It pisses me off that she doesn't give a fuck about her safety when here I am, fucking losing it.

"I've had worse," she says flatly, and grasps her hands in her lap, effectively hiding her bruises by covering each wrist with the opposite hand. And just like that, I snap back down to earth. This isn't the first time she's been hurt by another person. To her, this doesn't feel like a big deal because it's commonplace. This shit should never be commonplace.

I place my hands over hers. "Who did this to you?" I say, looking into her eyes. The deep chocolate brown seems to melt. For a second, I feel like I'm looking into her. Like I can see her pain. It looks like she might be about to tell me, to reveal something, but she breaks our gaze and looks out the window. Her father's cruiser is parked in front of her house.

"I have to think of something to tell Rosalie about where I went last night." She's avoiding the subject, and that's fine - for now. "I left rather abruptly. I didn't say goodbye." She pauses and looks up at me. I realize that she's starting to tell me something and that she's silently asking for permission to go on.

"Why did you have to leave so early?"

"I got too drunk. Things got out of hand." She shifts her gaze. She's looking anywhere but at me now. "I don't know," she whispers and adjusts the neckline of her t-shirt. "I was being stupid, I guess." With her eyes downcast, she clears her throat. I watch as tears start leaking from the corner of her eyes.

I feel like somebody is stabbing me in the chest. Somewhere in the back of my head, I know I shouldn't even be in this room alone with her, but seeing this poor, beautiful girl cry just hurts too fucking much. I can't stop myself: I reach out and brush her tears away with the back of my thumbs. She leans her cheek into my hand. I feel this rush of electricity, excitement. This is the first time, I realize, that I've touched her. Really touched her.

When I woke up holding her, it was an accident. When I held her hair back in the bathroom, it was instinct.

But this time... This time, it's different. I _want _to be touching her. I need to be touching her.

As she presses the heat of her cheek into the palm of my hand and her tears wet my fingertips, I crumble inside. Everything I've been avoiding - my impure thoughts, the idea of loving her, the desire to touch her - washes away.

_This is okay,_ I think. _This is right._

I allow myself to soak in the pleasure of Bella's closeness before I once again reign myself in. I don't know how she's feeling about all this and I know it's not right to take advantage of someone while they are in a vulnerable state. She doesn't resist or push me away, but other than leaning into my hand, she doesn't advance. I force myself to slow.

I sidle up closer to her on the couch and lean her hand onto my chest. I pet her hair for a long time while I hum and whisper to her. I tell her it's okay, and that she didn't do anything wrong. I remind her that whatever happened that's upsetting her wasn't her fault. More than once, I lean in to kiss the top of her head, but I stop myself short.

_Keep it platonic, _I think. I know we passed platonic about twelve hours ago, but I refuse to make her even more uncomfortable than she already is. I know without knowing that the bruises on her arm are from some unwelcome advance from a male classmate of hers. I swear to myself two things: first, I will _never_ make Bella feel the way she is right now by making any sort of unsolicited pass at her. And second, I will fucking murder whoever did this to her.

I feel Bella's body start to relax to me after a while. She leans into my side, but keeps her hands in her lap. I keep stroking her hair and _shhh_ing. Minutes pass and her shoulders slump. Her whimpering ceases and her breathing grows deep and steady. I look down at her and I see that she's sleeping.

I smile to myself. I know I haven't fixed her heartache by any means, but at least I relaxed her enough so that she could get some much-needed rest.

I remember what she said this morning about hating sleeping on couches, so I scoop her up in my arms and carry her upstairs. I marvel again at how small and light she is. _Should I worry about this, too?_ I wonder. Every facet of this woman has me concerned. I don't know what wrong with me, but I can't help but care deeply for her safety and well being.

I think it might be the budding teacher in me that has me now focused on the safety of my students, but I know that I'm giving her much more special attention than I would to any other student. I hope that I'll be able to keep a straight face in class tomorrow when I see her. Which reminds me - I need to work on my lesson plan. And get the audition information ready for the spring play meeting that I have during lunch on Tuesday.

I lay Bella down in my bed in the very place I found her this morning. Her head rests on my pillow and I pull the covers over her. She burrows into the blankets and sighs. I sit down on the edge right next to her. I just want to make sure she's okay before I head back downstairs to work on my plans.

Her cheeks flush pink and I feel confident enough to leave her for a while. She's starting to look better already. I stroke her hair one last time and stand up.

"Edward," she moans. I look back to see if she needs something, but she's still asleep.

I can't help the smug fucking smile that spreads across my face. There's hope for us yet.


	14. Coward Conscience

**Author's Note: The characters and settings of Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. The original content, ideas, and plot lines of this story belong to the author. The events in this story are fictional and any similarities to actual persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Additionally, this story contains subject matter not suitable for minors. Underage drinking, drug use, consensual sex, strong language, abuse, and other adult content may be present in this story. Again, all sex in this story is consensual. If you are under 18 and/or uncomfortable with any of these subjects, please be advised that this story may not be for you.**

**Hey, C Shell! *whispers* I'm right behind you...**

Leading Lady

Chapter 14 - Coward Conscience

BELLA.

I wake in Edward's bed. It's the second time in less than 12 hours.

_This is fucked, _I think. I should _not_ be wearing my teacher's clothes, eating my teacher's Doritos, throwing up in my teacher's bathroom, watching my teacher's television, or sleeping in my teacher's bed. But somehow... here I am.

I have to get out of here. I check the clock on the bedside table. It's 8 o'clock. My dad will be expecting me back soon. I should call him at work from the home phone number so that he knows I'm not dead. Which, incidentally, I could be if it hadn't been for Edward. Jesus, I'm still fucking here. Wearing his sweatpants.

_Right, leaving._ I yank the covers off me and strip. I change back into my party clothes as quickly as possible. I'm pretty sure Edward can hear me moving around up here and I don't want him to walk in on me changing... not that much. Ideally, I'll be able to sneak the fuck out of here without him noticing.

This is too weird.

I fold up his pants and shirt, because I really don't know what else to do with them. I make the bed and place his clothes in a neat pile at the foot of it. I look around for my bag before I remember that I left it in Port Angeles. Hopefully Rosalie will bring it back for me.

_Fuck - Rosalie!_ I still haven't talked to her. Or thought about how I'm going to explain my quick exit from her party. I mean, I ran out of her house without my jacket, purse, or keys. _ I'll leave that for later, _I think. I need to get out of this place first.

I open the door as quietly as possible and start tiptoeing down the stairs. I don't know what I plan on accomplishing by this because I'm sure Edward will see me leaving either way, but maybe there's a chance that he won't and that he'll even forget I was ever here.

I have my hand on the doorknob when Edward's voice rings out. "Trying to skip out on me, Bella?"

"Yeah, I, uh, I need to go home now. My dad..."

"I get it," he says flatly.

He's sitting on his couch with a bunch of papers laid out on the coffee table. He's sipping a beer.

"What are you working on?" I ask him.

"Lesson plans for next week. First in-class essay coming up. Get excited, Bella."

"Right," I mutter.

"And we're having a meeting on Tuesday at lunch to announce what the spring play will be."

"Care to give me a hint?" I goad.

"Yeah, right." He chuckles. "Get outta here, Swan. I'll see you on Monday. Be safe."

"Okay. Thanks," I say, and turn towards the door. I keep my eyes straight ahead as I leave. I feel a pang of regret as I walk away. I could've stayed here all night.

It's dark outside, and cold. I scurry across the street and up the steps to my front door. I check under the mat for a spare key.

Sure enough, there's one there. You'd think that the chief of police would want to hide his spare key somewhere other than right under the fucking doormat, but in this moment I'm just grateful.

I open the door and kick my flats off by the door. I try to make it look like a usual homecoming, but without a coat to hang on the hook and a bag to toss on the floor, it doesn't quite work out.

I go straight to the kitchen to call Charlie at work. He picks up after one ring.

"Hey, Bells. You home?"

"Yeah, Dad." I roll my eyes to myself. _Of course I'm home. I'm calling from the home number._

"Did you have fun with Rosalie this weekend?"

"Yeah. We had a good time. She took me shopping in Port Angeles today. I didn't buy anything, but it was fun anyway." I don't know where all of this is coming from, but I run with it. I need an alibi. Hopefully I can get Rosalie to corroborate this information later.

"That's nice. Glad you had fun with your friends, kid."

"Okay, Dad. I'm gonna go do some homework. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yup." He hangs up with a click.

I sit down at the kitchen table and put my head in my hands. For the first time in months, I miss my mom. Well, that's not true. I miss the idea of a mom.

Living with my mother for most of my childhood was like living with a roommate. An adult roommate. She never mothered me the way I saw in the movies. I envied my friends whose mothers would pack them lunches and pick them up after school, but I could usually find ways to adapt.

She was very much absorbed in her own world and I didn't mind it because it didn't affect me so much. It wasn't until she met Phil that things actually got really bad. It used to be that a different man would be drinking coffee at the kitchen counter each morning, a series of blurs. But when Phil got to be a regular at our morning breakfasts... things changed.

I'd always been independent, and didn't much mind being ignored at home - in fact, I preferred it. I could win the affection of my teachers and friends at school, and that seemed to fill most of the void left by my mother.

But when Phil showed up, I became important in our household.

Suddenly, my... Renee wanted to impress him with her mothering skills. She would yell at me in front of him if I got a bad grade. This wasn't so bad until he got the idea that a good talking to wasn't the right kind of punishment. But then there were the fake hugs she'd give me before I left for school, the godawful dinners she'd arrange for us to eat as a family.

I'd been fine just flying under the radar, but Phil changed that. I could adjust to the motherly talks, the chicken soup when I was sick, the birthday gifts. But I would have given it all up to just be left alone again.

After leaving Edward, I feel more alone than ever; I just wish I had someone to talk to. Hearing Charlie hang up the phone without so much as an "I love you," makes me almost long for the way Renee used to call it out to me when I'd leave for school each day. I knew then that it was all just a show for Phil, but it was still nice to hear her say it. It felt good pretending that she meant it, pretending for a moment that our relationship was like the ones I'd seen between my friends and their mothers.

I want to call Rose and tell her what happened with Jacob. I want to confess the whole thing and have her say that it's okay. But I can't. And I won't. It's too humiliating. How could I have been so stupid? I shouldn't have drank so much. I'm an idiot.

I press the heels of my hands into my eye sockets and try to press out the image of Jacob's white teeth glinting at me. At the same time that I hate him for ever coming near me, I can't because he's really been a good friend to me. Sure, he has no sense of boundaries - but at least he knows what he wants. He's always been clear about that. And his constant attention is flattering. And appropriate.

He's the kind of person I should be with.

So I reach for my phone and call Rose.

"Bella!" She answers with a shout. "Oh my god, did you just get back to your house? Were you with Jacob this whole time? I saw you guys leave together. You totally banged him, huh?"

"What? No. We, uh, we didn't..."

"Go all the way?" she sneers. "So what then? Handjob? Blowjob?" For someone who refuses to even admit that she's kissed someone, she sure finds it easy to talk about my sex life... even if it is totally imaginary.

"I don't wanna talk about this, Rose."

"Ah. I get it. Mum's the word." I don't really know what she means by that, but I go with it.

"Yeah, I just left in such a hurry that I forgot my purse and stuff. Can you bring it to me?"

"Mhmm. I'm about to leave for Jessica's to rehearse our scene for a bit. I'll bring it by on the way to her place, okay?"

"Sounds good." I hang the phone back up and sluggishly move towards my room. I desperately want a shower, but I know that I don't have time for that, so I decide to just change into some pajamas.

Finding myself in loosely fitted clothes reminds me of swimming in Edward's sweatpants. I feel like crying.

I pat the side of my face and mentally tell myself to look alive. I have got to have a good game face for when Rosalie gets here. I start combing my hair, but I can't seem to work through a snarl at the back of my head. Washing my hair without brushing it at Edward's house earlier had not been the best idea. I may have to cut this one out. I cringe.

The doorbell rings and I head downstairs. I open the door and Rosalie is standing on my porch holding my things, and she has the smuggest look I've ever seen plastered on her face.

Before I can even say hello, she barges in. "So, let's have it. I need details. Is he as big as you'd think? Sometimes a guy's size can be deceiving. I mean, Jacob's so tall, but is his-" I cut her off by putting my hand in her face.

"I don't kiss and tell," I say. _Fuck, why did I say that? Jesus, now she'll really think we did it._ I guess it's better than her knowing I spent the night - and most of the day - at Edward's place.

"Ahh, I get it." She arches an eyebrow and waves her pinky in the air. "I won't say a thing."

I nod back at her and continue running the comb through my hair. I'm determined to get this knot out without having to get out the scissors.

"Oh my god, " Rosalie bursts. "You totally have a sex snarl. I can't believe this. This is awesome. Let me help. I have experience with these things." She snatches the comb from my hand and starts yanking it through my hair.

"Jesus, Rose!" I cry. "That fucking hurts! Don't you have somewhere to be?"

"Oh shit, right. I have to go, but this isn't over, Swan. I will get the details. I will." She narrows her eyes at me and throws the comb back.

"Bye, Rose," I call and close the door.

I lean against the doorframe and let it sink in. Rosalie thinks Jacob and I... I'm almost revolted by the thought. Though it does hold a certain appeal as a distraction at least...

I'm not even remotely interested in getting close to Jacob, though. The shiver that runs through me as I think of his face nearing mine just serves as a painful reminder of how detestable his actions at the party were.

But I still can't hate him. I just can't make myself do it.

I decide not to waste any more time dwelling on the fact that I will have to see him in the morning regardless, and I head back up to my room. I sit at my desk and stare at my open drama lit textbook and the scene he and I will be performing in class this week. I try to memorize my lines, but I keep looking over at my computer's blank screen. It's taunting me.

I don't know why I'm such a glutton for punishment, but I refuse to check my email right now. In a way, I don't want to know if he's written me. I should start ignoring him and begin focusing on more appropriate things. This weekend was a fantasy, and I don't know what to make of it.

He was kind and caring. He looked after me. I want to take this as a sign that he likes me, but I can't tell. He did tell me that he didn't mean to hold me while he was sleeping. Maybe it's just a habit of his.

Ugh, the thought of him holding another girl turns my stomach.

I recognize this feeling for what it is: jealousy.

I fix my eyes on the script.

_Harper: No. Yes. No. Yes. Get away from me. Now we both have a secret. _

I slam the book shut. _Fuck it,_ I think, and power up my computer. When my email loads, I see that I have one new message. It's from Edward.

From: Edward Cullen

Subject: Hello

Date: January 21, 2007 9:37PM

To: Isabella Swan

Let's talk at lunch tomorrow. In my office?

-EC

I hit reply before I can begin to think of what this means.

From: Isabella Swan

Subject: RE: Hello

Date: January 21, 2007 10:03PM

To: Edward Cullen

Okay.

I have something I want to show you.

-B

I press send and let out a heavy sigh.

Emailing Edward reminds me that I need to print something for him. I find it quickly and print it without looking it over. As I head over to my bed, I grab the poetry book I swiped from Edward's classroom and lay down. I open to the first page, the villanelle, and tuck my paper into the book.

I shut my eyes and will sleep to come. I've slept most of the day but I feel exhausted anyway. This weekend was rough.

I stay awake for a few hours and try to sort things out in my head. I can't make heads or tails of it, and I fall asleep with a tension headache throbbing between my eyes.


	15. What a Tangled Web We Weave

**Author's Note: The characters and settings of Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. The original content, ideas, and plot lines of this story belong to the author. The events in this story are fictional and any similarities to actual persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Additionally, this story contains subject matter not suitable for minors. Underage drinking, drug use, consensual sex, strong language, abuse, and other adult content may be present in this story. Again, all sex in this story is consensual. If you are under 18 and/or uncomfortable with any of these subjects, please be advised that this story may not be for you.**

Leading Lady

Chapter 15 - What a Tangled Web We Weave

EDWARD.

My alarm goes off and I reach over to the other side of the bed, stretching out for warmth. I shiver when all my hands meet are cool, white sheets and an empty pillow.

I rip the blankets off me and throw them on the floor. I've been awake for less than a minute and I'm already pissed.

I'm pissed at Bella for not being in my bed. I'm pissed that Bella was ever in my bed. I'm pissed that Bella was in my house in the first place. I'm pissed at Bella for being so enticing, and beautiful, and charming, and sweet. I'm pissed at Bella for being so, so intriguing.

But mostly I'm pissed at myself because I know this is all my fault. I let her in here, I held her as she slept, I stroked her neck when she was sick, I talked about dream houses and violence on TV with her, I listened to her when she spoke about her mother, I encouraged her to open up to me, and this is all my fault.

I stalk off to the bathroom and strip my clothes off in a rage. I jump in the shower and grab my morning wood. I pump away furiously and hope to rid myself of this anger. A cathartic, distracting orgasm is what I'm after.

I close my eyes and picture Bella laying in my bed.

This only makes things worse. Picturing her dark hair splayed out around her just fuels the anger I feel towards the both us.

I can't even jack off without thinking of her. I just want to masturbate in peace.

I'm too pissed to focus. I can't come and I fucking give up. I turn off the water and step out of the shower, my hard-on slapping me as I walk. As I dress myself, I carefully avoid touching my dick. It's sore and each move I make reminds me of how badly I need release.

I know I could just go get laid. Coach what's-his-name did mention some girl... Jane. My stomach turns.

I arrive at school a bit late for my standards and when I go to unlock my classroom, Bella is leaning against the building with her ankles crossed. She's reading one of my books - one I don't remember her taking. A thick strand of chestnut hair hangs in her face. She brushes it out of the way as she looks up to see me walking towards her.

My groin aches.

"Good morning, Miss Swan," I say as I put my key in the lock. A look of understanding washes over her. I think she realizes that I have to be professional with her - at least while I'm on campus.

"Mr. Cullen," she whispers. She raises the book she's reading. "I borrowed this from your desk. Hope you don't mind."

"Not at all. Are you enjoying it?" I gesture for her to enter. She does.

"I am, yeah. Can I keep it for a little while?" she asks over her shoulder as she makes her way to sit at her desk.

"Of course. As long as you like."

"Thanks."

I move to my desk and start unpacking my things. I feel really guilty about what I have to do today, but I'm roughly following Jim's lesson plans, and I kind of have no choice.

The other students start to arrive and take their seats. I sit at my desk and pretend to shuffle some papers, but really I can't keep my eyes off Bella. She's talking animatedly with Angela. I narrow my eyes at her. _How dare she be so fucking cute and peppy when I'm in such a fucked-up mood? How can she be so damn chipper this early in the morning?_ She must have had an extra dose of coffee this morning. And that's when I realize that I forgot my own coffee.

_Well, fuck. This is just not my day, _I grumble inwardly.

I vaguely hear Angela mention the name 'Jacob.' I look up to see Bella shift uncomfortably in her seat and pull the hems of her sleeves over her hands.

This is all the confirmation I need. _That fucker. _

I push my chair back and stand up. I don't know what I'm about to do, but I have to do something.

The bell rings and snaps me out of the bubbling rage that was beginning to rise inside me.

I put my teacher face on. "Okay class. I hope you all had a good weekend," I say, with a little more than a hint of irony. My eyes dart to Bella. She's coloring the cover of her notebook with her pen. I pull my eyes away from her hand. "Okay. Pop quiz."

The groans echo through the room. I put my hands up in defense. "If you did the reading, you'll be fine. Don't stress, guys."

I hand the quiz out, still feeling like the biggest dick in the world. The students put their heads down and get to work.

I scribble on a yellow sticky note and place it on her desk as I walk past. "Discussion in my office? 6th period?"

She pretends she doesn't see it and moves her quiz to cover the note. I make my way back to my desk. As each student finishes the quiz, they bring it up and place it on my desk. Bella lays her paper down. I try to ignore her little hand, and the yellowing bruises on her wrists. She taps her red fingernail twice at the top of her paper before she walks away.

At the top of the page, next to her name she's written: "See you then," with a little smile next to it. I give her an A.

When everyone's turned in the quiz, I get up and stand in front of the class. My sore cock twitches inside my pants. Bella will be in my office. Today.

I wince.

"Okay, guys. Sorry to have to start out the week like that. Let's move on to some lighter stuff. Grab a copy of _Fine Frenzy_ and _Death of a Salesman_, and let's circle up on the floor." I love circles. I take a seat on the gray carpet under the whiteboard with my tattered hardcopy of the poetry book.

When everyone's seated - Bella's two people away from me - I begin. "I asked you guys last week to select a few poems that interested you. I hope that you've done so. The assignment is to analyze and decipher a poem and present that in class. You need to be comfortable reading it aloud, so be sure to practice reading it with a friend. I'll give an example of how a presentation will go, and after class you can sign up for a time to present next week. This poem is by Norman MacCaig. It's on page 154."

I take a deep breath and start reading aloud.

"I look across the table and think

(fiery with love)

Ask me, go on, ask me

to do something impossible,

something freakishly useless,

something unimaginable and inimitable

Like making a finger break into blossom

or walking for half an hour in twenty minutes

or remembering tomorrow.

I will you to ask it.

But all you say is

Will you give me a cigarette?

And I smile and,

returning to the marvelous world

of possibility

I give you one

with a hand that trembles

with a human trembling."

As I read, I keep my eyes trained on the text, careful to avoid eye contact with any of my students, and especially with Bella. I selected this poem weeks ago when I was developing the assignment, but I'm surprised now by how the meaning of it has changed for me.

What interested me most about this poem at first was the surrealism of it, the gentle language and the strange imagery. But now I see how infused with love it is, how real it is.

I clear my throat and start to read from my notes.

"Norman MacCaig was a Scottish poet born in 1910. He is probably best known for the poem I just read, entitled 'Incident,' but he was also beloved for his humor and straightforwardness in other work." Fuck, I'm even boring myself. I keep going. "During World War II, he registered as a conscientious objector - which, as I'm sure you guys know, means that he refused to perform military services. Though his career may have suffered at the time for his pacifism, at the time of his death in 1996, he was recognized worldwide for his achievements in lyric and free verse poetry. He was awarded two annual awards in poetry: the Cholmandeley Award and The Queen's Gold Medal for Poetry."

I pause and look up. Angela is leaning in towards me like this is the most interesting thing she's ever heard. Bella is picking at her nail polish. Some of the boys are snickering with each other on the other side of the circle. I don't want to get myself worked up over a bunch of slackers, so I continue.

"You'll notice that this poem is in the Illusion/Reality section of your book, but what I find so interesting about this piece is the line it straddles between a poem about questioning what is real and a poem about love. The colloquial nature of the language and the simplicity of the words used make this poem easy to read, but the images it evokes are difficult - or even impossible - to understand. Perhaps, such is the same with love. While it is a real feeling that many people experience, it is also deeply shrouded in mystery and complications, much like some of the scenarios that MacCaig poses. The flower imagery is both romantic and violent, and the way he bends time perhaps connotes the way time seems to fly when you're in love."

I open up the circle for discussion, but lame high school blather - mostly from Jessica - fills the room. Bella is noticeably silent, and Angela keeps poking her and whispering in her ear. I can't wait to get to the bottom of this. If they're talking about Jacob... fuck, I'll have to hurt something.

I wrap up the discussion about the meaning of love, and tell the students to open their copies of _Death of a Salesman_. There is a squabble - mostly between the theatre nerds present - over who gets to read aloud first. Eventually Bella and Angela settle on reading for Biff and Happy, while Jessica reads for Linda, and a shy-ish guy named Peter gets stuck reading for Willy. I feel bad for the kid because there's a lot of reading for him to do and it looks like his buddies are going to razz him about it later. After a few painful pages, I offer to read for him. He looks so relieved that I think he might cry.

I try to keep up, but the adorable way Bella's reading in a manly voice is cracking me up. Every time I start to chuckle and my stomach clenches, my already-sore dick rebels against me. It's so tender and I don't know what the hell to do about it.

We get through a few more pages before the bell rings. "Don't forget to sign up to present!" I shout, as the students load their things up and head for the door.

I'm still sitting on the floor, because I'm too afraid to make any big movements in front of anyone. I can't trust myself not to scream if my dick hits my zipper or something.

Bella is standing by the door. "See you later," she says over her shoulder and she turns to leave, linking her arm with Angela's. She's gone before I have the chance to say "looking forward," or something equally dorky.

When the classroom has emptied, I grab my papers and head to my office.

I make a pit stop in the teacher's lounge to grab a cup of desperately needed coffee. I almost turn around when I spot Alice sitting at one of the tables, nibbling on a cookie.

When she spots me, she practically launches herself across the table at me.

"Jesus Christ, Edward!" she whisper-shouts at me. "Where the fuck have you been?" Her eyes dart side-to-side as she merely mouths the word 'fuck.' She's trying to look pissed, but when a tiny little woman in a pink dress wags her finger in your face, it's pretty hard to take her seriously.

"I've called you like a hundred times! You just disappeared!"

I haven't thought of what lie I'm going to feed her and I'm almost stupid enough to say "family emergency," but I snap my mouth shut before I give her further reason to want to slap me. "I uh, you know. Uhm. My friend... remember Zafrina? Yeah, she had a bad audition back home and she called. She was upset. I couldn't leave her hanging."

Alice gives me the side eye. "And that kept you busy the whole weekend?"

"Yeah, Alice," I say with as much condescension as I can muster. "She needed help devising a new audition plan, okay?"

"Jesus, Edward. I get it. You just had me really worried. Would it kill you to answer your phone once in a while?"

"Yeah, sure," I mutter, feeling a bit dumb. I don't know what else to say, so I tuck my papers under my arm and fill a styrofoam cup with coffee. I nod in Alice's direction as I sneak back to my office.

I prepare myself for DramaLit and start to grade some of the pop quizzes. I know I already gave Bella an A for agreeing to meet me in my office later today, but I have to be fair and actually look at how she did.

And she did well. Granted, the quiz wasn't that hard. It was just a gauge to see if they did the assigned reading. It's relieving to know that she truly is as smart, or maybe as dedicated, as she seems. I don't have to worry about changing her grade.

The hour ticks by quickly and I all but forget about the ache between my legs.

The bell rings for brunch and I can hear the students line up at the snack bar and gossip about their weekend. I'm starting to hear some drivel that I really don't need to know about, so I get up again and walk across campus to the Little Theater. I start writing out the vocabulary words for the week. I'm in the middle of writing "wanton" in dry erase marker, when the students file in and begin to take their seats.

When the bell rings, I turn to face them. I catch Rosalie and Emmett kissing out of the corner of my eye, but what really grabs my attention is Jacob's hand on Bella's knee. My vision clouds red for a second before I gain my composure.

"Hey, guys. Happy Monday. I have a few housekeeping items to go through, so while you copy down these words and definitions, I'll just blather a bit." I give them a second to take out their notebooks and pens. "Word Goddess, Lauren, be sure to write down the words on your cards so we can word battle later." I don't know what comes over me, but I do this awkward karate chop dance when I say "battle." I want to die.

I pull myself together and put my embarrassment aside. "Okay, last thing before we break off into our scene partners to rehearse. Mark your calendars, because tomorrow during lunch there will be a meeting to announce what the spring musical will be. We'll discuss auditions. I hope to see you all there."

Some of the girls kind of squeal and grip each other. It's great to see my students so excited. Rosalie pinches Emmett on the arm and he rolls his eyes. My guess is that she's strong-arming him into coming to the meeting tomorrow. This kid is giant, but if anyone can push him around, I'm sure it's Rose. She's one tough cookie.

I think back to that strange meeting I had with her before the break.

_"I'm the best actress there is at this school, and I had things all lined up to be the lead in the spring show before Mr. Wilcox left. And I'm not going to lose it just because some new guy pulled into town. I will have that part, Mr. Cullen. I will."_

I chuckle to myself. She didn't - and still doesn't - know what the play is, much less what the lead role is, and yet she was vying for the part. I think of changing the play last minute to one where the lead is a disgusting male character. See if she wants the role then. Ha.

Catching a glimpse of Jacob whispering in Bella's ear brings me out of my bizarre fantasy of ruining Rosalie's high school theatre experience.

"Okay. Let's circle up on stage and do some warm ups." Lauren and Jessica scurry out of their seats and scramble to get a spot next to me. "I'm so excited!" they chirp in unison. "About the spring play," Jessica continues, ignoring Lauren. "I'm sure you'll be a great director." _Ah, kissing my ass already, I see._

"Well, then," I say cautiously. "I should remind you that, while I am the drama teacher here, I take a back seat to Mrs. Meyer. She'll be directing the show because she has more experience at this school."

Jessica pouts. "Well, I'm still excited."

The rest of the class joins us on the stage. "I'm excited too, Ms. Stanley."

Across the circle from where I stand with my personal cheerleading squad, Jacob is holding Bella's hand. _What the fucking fuck is going on here? _I have to do something to separate them. I decide to scramble up the circle the best way I know how.

"Alright, our first warm up is a little game I like to call 'Go.' Have you guys played it before?"

A general 'no' grumbles through the crowed, but Lauren pipes up. "No, we've never played it before, Mr. Edward. But it sounds super fun!" I have got to shake this chick. How could she know a game is fun after hearing nothing more than its one-word title? _Overzealous freak._

I address the class. "Okay, it can be a bit difficult to pick up at first, but once you get the hang of, it gets pretty fun. Alright, please stand with your hands to yourself." I try to keep my focus away from Jacob's massive hand clamped over Bella's. "Make sure that you have a good view of everyone in the circle because you'll need to make eye contact." The circle evens itself out, and everyone starts looking around.

"This is how it works. I'll point to someone across the circle." I point at Emmett. "This is me asking permission to walk across the circle and take your spot. They way you give permission is by saying 'go.'"

"Go?" he says. I slowly start walking towards his spot.

"Okay, good. Now it's your turn to ask someone's permission to take his or her place, and you need to do so before I get over there. Your spot should be vacant, so that I can take it by the time I reach it." Emmett looks a bit panicked.

"This is just practice. So choose someone across the circle and ask them with your eyes if you can come over there." He rolls his eyes and eventually points to Eric.

"Go," Eric says.

"Good. Okay, Emmett, start walking towards Eric's spot. Eric, now ask someone else." Eric points at Lauren.

"Go!" she bursts. Eric walks towards her and she points at Embry without my having to prompt her.

I'm pretty impressed with myself for remembering everyone's names. Things seem to be going pretty well. For the most part, students are switching places seamlessly. Save for a few stutters of the feet, people are crisscrossing the stage with ease.

Until I realize that neither Bella nor Jacob have moved. _What the hell? Hasn't someone pointed to either of them? _

It's because they're making goo-goo eyes at each other and not looking to make eye contact with the other students. _Fucking gross. _I shiver because my inner monologue is starting to sound like Jessica.

"Eye contact, guys," I say generally. "You need to be looking for the next pointer. Follow along."

They finally look away from each other. I feel pretty self-satisfied, but then I see Jessica jumping up and down with her mouth pressed together desperately. She's pointing in my direction. "Fuck, uh, go!"

She starts walking toward me. Here's my chance. I point right at Jacob.

"Go," he mumbles. I charge toward him and hope that he's too stupid or slow to get someone to say "go" for him. I want to ram right into this kid and knock him on his ass.

I know the bruises on Bella's arms are from him. I'm certain of it. And the way he's been hanging off of her all day has me screaming inside. It seems through some kind of trick - brainwashing or coercion - that he's gotten her to return his affection. She's been holding his hand, looking up into his eyes when he says her name, giggling when he tickles her side.

I want to fucking kill him. That's _my _girl. _Mine._

She sat on _my _couch, she slept in _my_ bed, she ate _my _food and drank _my_ coffee, and she cried and looked into _my _eyes.

She called _me_ for help when this asshole hurt her.

So why is she acting like this?

I'm nearing him, ready to shove my shoulder into his, make it look like an accident, when I hear Quil call out "Go!"

_Fuck. _He breezes right by me. I stand in his spot. Next to Bella. My chest heaves up and down in fury. I keep my mouth shut and try to steady my breathing. But all I want to do is deck that guy. I glance down at Bella. Her chest is rising and falling rhythmically in pace with mine. Her eyes are fixed ahead, purposefully ignoring me.

Just before I shift my gaze away from her, she looks up at me. Just for a second. Her brow is furrowed, her eyes full, open, bewildered. She looks hurt, guilty, scared. The deep brown spheres fill with tears, but she blinks and looks away before I have time to think to do anything.

I shake my head to clear it, rub my hands together. "Great. Good job, guys. We'll play this again tomorrow. Let's split off into our scene groups now. Remember those cards I had you write on last week after we did the Zen walk? With the word on it? Please get those out before you rehearse. If you don't have yours today, that's fine, but just don't tell me. You guys are actors, so just pretend that you brought it with you. As an exercise, please try and integrate that word into your scene. It doesn't matter if you don't end up using it in your final performance, but I'd like you to at least try. I'll give you the rest of the time to work. Feel free to go into the shop, either of the dressing rooms, the costume loft, or outside to work. I'll come by and check in on everyone. Okay. Questions?" I hardly pause. "Nope? Then hop to it."

The students pair off and walk off in different directions, mumbling about stupid word cards and not memorizing their lines. I try not to look in Bella's direction. I've focused too much of my energy on her today. But I see her walking off towards the shop with Jacob.

_Fucking fuckity fuck. They're scene partners. _I had totally forgotten about that. I cannot handle this. I follow them.

They stand in the shop next to the hand drill, holding their scripts and note cards. I try to stand far off enough so that they don't see me, but that means I can't hear them, so I cautiously step forward and lean against the doorframe. Things look fine from here, they're just rehearsing. I'm about to turn to leave when I see him grab the tops of her shoulders.

I whip around and march right up to them. "Mr. Black, I'm sure I don't have to remind you that this is a hands-off campus." He gapes at me. _Bastard._ "So, please, keep your hands off Miss Swan," I growl.

"It's for the scene, I'm just acting, man," he says.

"Sure, Black. Like hell you are," I snort.

"Mr. Cullen, really. It's not a big deal. It's for the scene. It's a fight scene," Bella interjects, avoiding eye contact with me. "I promise." She coughs, and looks up at me.

"Alright. Alright. I'm sorry. Just, please, be careful. Safety first." I groan. "And don't touch the tools." I say over my shoulder as I walk away.

I try to go about and check in on the other pairs, but I can't stop thinking about what must be going on in the shop. If I find one more bruise on Bella, I will, without fail, have Jacob Black expelled from Forks High.

And imprisoned. For life.


	16. Slings and Arrows

**Author's Note: The characters and settings of Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. The original content, ideas, and plot lines of this story belong to the author. The events in this story are fictional and any similarities to actual persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Additionally, this story contains subject matter not suitable for minors. Underage drinking, drug use, consensual sex, strong language, abuse, and other adult content may be present in this story. Again, all sex in this story is consensual. If you are under 18 and/or uncomfortable with any of these subjects, please be advised that this story may not be for you.**

**This chapter contains an excerpt from Tony Kushner's **_**Angels in America, Part 1: Millennium Approaches. **_** All rights are reserved by the original author and publisher.**

Leading Lady

Chapter 16 – Slings and Arrows

BELLA.

I wake up Monday morning feeling like the whole weekend was one odd dream. Were it not for the fading bruises on my arms, I'd be convinced that the whole weekend was one nightmare-turned-fantasy.

I realize that I'm starving, having skipped deckfast last night with Charlie. I feel a little guilty about coming home after I knew he would be at work already and not feeding him, but I figure he's a grown man and was able to survive without me before I got here.

I put on a long-sleeved dress and a pair of tights with my over-the-knee boots. I want to look cute for Edward, but I don't want him looking at my bruises. That topic is not open for discussion and he got a good enough look when I was on his couch yesterday. Besides, I spent time thinking about it after Rose left last night and I've decided to forgive Jacob. We'd both been drinking a lot, and I'm sure he really meant no harm. He's been such a good friend to me since the day I arrived in Forks, and I can't write him off because of one drunken mistake. Rosalie made it clear to me that she thinks I had sex with him, and knowing her, the rest of The City of Forks thinks so as well. I can't go around hating some guy I allegedly slept with without raising some serious concerns. I don't want to be raising any kinds of concerns about me right now. If I have to pretend to be Jake's - I shudder to think it - girlfriend, in order to avoid a shit storm, so be it.

And I could seriously do worse.

I could do a lot better as well.

I shove that thought aside. There's no point in pretending like any of this is real, when I know it's not. But since I'm sure Rose has told the whole school I fucked Jacob, I figure trying to tell anyone otherwise will only make my situation worse. Maybe this can work for me; it can serve as a lie to placate the masses. And at least people won't think I have a little something for Edward. _Which you don't,_ I tell myself glumly. _Forget it, Swan._

I'm super hungry, but I don't want to stick around too long and make breakfast. Charlie will be home any minute and I don't want to face him again. I'm a terrible liar and I can hardly remember the crap I made up to tell him yesterday. He's a cop and he'll see right through me. I can't handle the Spanish Inquisition before 8 am.

So I grab a packet of strawberry Pop-Tarts and head for my truck. It's probably too cold for me to be so scantily clad, but it's too late for me to go inside and grab another layer, so I burrow further into my coat and turn the heat on as high as it'll go. Which isn't that high.

I arrive at school early enough that Edward hasn't opened his classroom yet. I lean against the wall and cross my ankles, trying to look casual even though I'm screaming inside. I open the book I took from his desk last week and start to read again. The page I printed last night falls out and floats to the ground. I lean down to pick it up, and am thankful that it's not raining today and my pristine page wasn't soiled.

I blow some bits of dirt off of it. I straighten myself out and resume the faux-blasé pose I held before. As I bend my head to continue reading, I see Edward start to round the corner. I brush my hair out of my face and try not to smile too wide. I'm fucking thrilled to see him. In an adorable sweater, no less.

I catch him smiling back at me for a second, before he pauses for a beat and winces. I try not to let my face fall as a wave of confusion and disappointment washes over me. It's not that I expected him to come running into my arms or anything, but the grimace painted across his face makes my stomach coil.

He approaches me wordlessly and puts his key in the lock.

"Good morning, Miss Swan," Edward says sternly. _Oh, that's how it is? I'm Miss Swan now?_ I grumble to myself. _Well, fuck you, old man._

"Mr. Cullen," I grunt back curtly. I try not to act hurt by his obvious standoffishness, so I change the subject. "I borrowed this book from your desk. Hope you don't mind." I lift the book, hoping he'll see the page stuck in it and ask me about it. I'm shaky. I've decided to try writing poems of my own and I want to see what Edward thinks of them.

He doesn't acknowledge the page sticking out, though. Instead, he replies, "Not at all. Are you enjoying it?"

I have to think for a second about what he's talking about. _Oh, the book. _He gestures for me to enter the classroom as he opens the door. I follow his direction.

"I am, yeah. Can I keep it for a while?" I ask, and raise the book again. He doesn't notice that either, so I head toward my desk, glancing at him over my shoulder.

"Of course," he says, as he walks to his own desk. "As long as you like." I can't tell if he's being nice or just obligatorily polite.

He seems awkward today. Distracted and in pain. I flush when I realize he might actually be thinking about this weekend... with me. I give up on that thought because I can't understand why he would treat me badly if he's remembering the tender moments we had in his apartment on Sunday. Unless he's thinking of when I puked in his first floor bathroom. It's too embarrassing to even think about, so I refocus my attention on the present.

"Thanks," I whisper. I sit alone for a while. The silence in the room is maddening. I know that this isn't the time or place to talk about what happened only yesterday, but I can't help but feel hurt that he's completely fucking ignoring me. He won't even look in my direction. I take out my pen and start scratching on the cover of my notebook until my classmates start to arrive.

Angela plops down in the seat next to me. "So, I hear you banged Jacob. He's big, right?"

"Good morning to you, too, Ang." I groan. I don't understand why people are so fascinated with my fictional sex life and the size of Jake's penis, but it's kind of funny. I can't deny or confirm anything, because really, nothing even happened. So I just chuckle back, "You know what they say..." Hopefully being vague will get me through this.

"I'm sorry I was so late to the party. I was with Eric." She raises her eyebrows at me. It's hard to imagine whatever innocent little Angela could have been doing with Eric that made her so late to the party, so I don't push it. That mental image would probably gross me out anyway. "I can't believe I got there after you left with Jacob!"

The twisted memory of Jacob grabbing my by the arm as I tried to leave alone clouds my mind. I tug on my sleeve hems, making sure to cover the marks he left. I don't want to start another rumor, this time about rough sex. It was an accident. And had nothing to do with sex.

Suddenly, Edward... Mr. Cullen leaps out of his seat behind his desk. He looks startled and annoyed. The bell rings and he pulls on the bottom of his sweater and take a deep breath. Maybe he just knew the bell was coming.

"Okay class. I hope you all had a good weekend," I can hear the sarcasm in his voice and it doesn't sit well with me. _Yeah, I had a pretty damn good weekend with YOU, Edward. I was pretty blissed out over the whole thing. But then you had to be a total fucking buzz kill this morning._ I go back to scribbling on my notebook cover.

"Okay," he says, seriousness now coloring his voice. "Pop quiz." _Wow, what an incredible asshole, _I groan inwardly as the rest of the classroom erupts in moans and complaints.

He throws his hands up defensively. _Yeah, jerkoff, pretend like it's not all your doing. This is unwelcome torture and you know it. _I glare daggers at him, but he doesn't notice. He's too busy defending himself to a bunch of seventeen-year-olds. _What a fucking child._

He lays the quiz down on my table and I don't even look up to acknowledge him. The quiz is actually pretty easy; just a few questions about the basic plot of the last few chapters of _Crime and Punishment_. I roll my eyes and start writing. I'm about halfway through with the quiz when Edward's hand appears in my periphery. He sticks a little yellow sticky note on my desk. It has green handwriting on it. I pretend I don't even see it and move my quiz to cover it up. I don't even want to know what it says. I'm so pissed at him right now; no fucking sticky note is going to shift my mood. I keep my head down and focus on my quiz, but I feel like his note is burning a hole in my desk. I keep telling myself that I don't want to read it, that it'll only make things worse, that whatever it says, it's probably a lie.

I finish the rest of the quiz in a rush because, truthfully, I do want to see what his note says.

"Discussion in my office? 6th period?" _Oh, now you want to see me again, Mr. Cullen. What's with the hot and cold? _I look up at him. He's sitting at his desk, casually flipping through a copy of _Death of a __Salesman_.

_Two can play that game, asshole._

I write "see you then" at the top of my quiz next to my name. I add a little smiley face next to it just to seem extra sweet, even though I want to kick him in the balls for ignoring me. Maybe I will when I'm alone with him this afternoon. I can't help the shiver that runs through my body as I imagine being alone with him again. I hate myself for it, but that sounds fucking delicious to me.

I can't believe I'm being hot and cold with myself right now. Ugh.

I get up and walk over to his desk to turn in my quiz. He ignores me. I refuse to let this continue, so I tap my freshly painted fingernail at the top of my page. _Notice me! _I scream inside. I walk away without saying a word and when I'm back in my seat, I see Mr. Edward smiling like a dumbass at my quiz. _Take that, jerk face._

I continue coloring on the cover of my notebook while everyone else finishes up the quiz. Edward finally gets up and walks to the front of the room. He's been walking funny all day. It's so weird. He tells us to grab our books and circle up on the carpet. It's like this guy can't even teach a fucking class without having everyone rounded up in a circle somewhere.

I go to sit next to him, to tease him with my closeness, but Jessica and Lauren scurry right over and sit on either side of him. _Skanky ho bitches._ Jessica motions to Angela to come over and sit next to her, and I sit next to Angela. I'm sitting two people away from Mr. Edward. I'm decently close, but I wish to be closer. I want to remind him of what he's missing. And figure out why he's in such a grumpy mood.

He launches into his lecture, and even though it's fairly boring, I'm soothed by the sound of his voice. I'm still mad at him, but the more he talks, the more I'm drawn to him again. I try to resist. I reason with myself: he's older, he's your teacher, he's being a jerk, he's ignoring you, he's toying with you, he walks funny.

But then he starts reading a fucking poem and I practically spray the room. Oh em gee. I pretty much I melt into a pool of jelly when he says "fiery with love." His eyes flicker to me, but they return to the page in his hands just as fast. His words wash over me and I can feel my skin heating up. I'm practically soaked through my lace undies.

I don't know why I wore them today, because obviously no one's going to be seeing them while I'm at school, or at any other point in my life, if I'm being honest with myself. But I guess that knowing I'm wearing an ultra sexy, matching red bra and panty set under my innocent looking dress makes me feel pretty good. It's like my own little secret. I giggle to myself. _You'll never get to see these panties, Fuckward. _

When Mr. Edward starts talking about the history of the poet and the poem's meaning, I look around. All the girls are leaning towards him and eagerly crossing and uncrossing their legs. Looks like I'm not the only one who found his poetry reading a bit exciting.

I'm so focused on watching Edward's mouth move that I hardly notice Jessica yammering on, right in his face. He cuts her off eventually, and tells us to get out our copies of _Death of a Salesman._ He asks for volunteers to read aloud and Angela and I shoot our hands up in unison. I can't help but giggle with Ang when our eyes lock, each with an arm above our heads. When Jessica sees our hands in the air, she announces that she'll be reading for Linda without even really asking permission. Just as well. I'll read for Biff and Ang will read for Happy. Should be funny playing brothers.

No one else wants to read aloud - not even Lauren - so Peter gets conned into reading for Willy. Poor guy. He's not cut out for theatre, and I know his friends will start teasing him as soon as the bell rings.

We hardly get through a few pages before Edward stops us. I have to admit that I'm slightly disappointed. I was just starting to get a grip on my man voice and Angela has finally dispelled the giggles she had when we started reading. I get ready to close my book, but Edward starts reading Willy's lines.

_Holy shit._

It's so hot to listen to his voice, but I want to stab myself in the leg with a pencil just to distract myself. This is not okay. This is not healthy. But then I remember that I'll be in his office later this afternoon. Maybe I'll cocktease him a little bit, just to remind him not to fuck around with me. I was pretty well known in Phoenix for giving guys blue balls - I guess never putting out will get you that reputation - so I'm pretty sure an accidental-on-purpose brush of my hand to his bicep will do the trick.

I almost miss my line because I'm so lost in my Edward blue balls fantasy. I recognize how fucked up that is, but figure that it's definitely not the most fucked up thing in my life right now, so I don't dwell on it.

The bell rings and everyone shuffles out. I try to stay back like I always do and chat with him, but he doesn't get up off his spot on the carpet or even make eye contact with me or anything. _Asshole._

Angela drags me by the arm out to Music Theory. I call, "see you later," over my shoulder at him. _Try to ignore me now, bitch._

Music Theory is boring. We work on four-part compositions for most of the period and discuss the final project, which is to compose our own song. It sounds pretty daunting and makes me pretty nervous, actually. But I can't stop thinking about next period and being in Mr. Edward's presence again. I still can't make up my mind if I love or hate him.

My train of thought stutters. _Did I just say _love_? _I didn't mean it like that. Love isn't real, at least not in that way. I try to tell myself that what I meant was that I can't figure out if I'm mad at Mr. Edward or not. Whatever.

I'm in the middle of filling in two eighth notes when Angela pokes me. "Jacob's waiting outside for you," she whispers.

"Oh, shit." Even though I think I've gotten over what happened this past weekend, I still feel wary about seeing Jacob for the first time since then. I know that I have to see him next period in DramaLit – and that we'll probably have to rehearse our scene together - but I thought I'd at least have all of Brunch to psych myself up for it.

The bell rings and I slowly make my way to the door. Jake's standing outside the classroom, holding a single rose. It looks like he might have combed his hair a bit more this morning. I stop short a few feet away from him, but with a few quick strides, he closes the distance.

"Bella," he half-whispers when he gets close.

"Hey, Jake," I choke.

He holds the rose out to me. "Look, I'm really sorry," he says, and his jaw goes a bit slack for a second. "I feel horrible about... what happened at the party. I know I overstepped a boundary, but I really didn't mean to. I got the wrong impression. When I thought you wanted... Well, I got excited I guess. I've been dreaming about being with you forever. So I just jumped at the opportunity. I thought you asked me to... You know. I'd had a lot to drink, as you know, and I thought... for a second, just a second, I thought..."

"Thought what, Jacob?" I breathe.

"I thought you wanted to be with me." He looks down at his combat boots. My chest constricts. I feel really bad for him. I totally led him on, I now realize.

"Bella, I care about you. You mean a lot to me, and I feel awful. Just totally horrible... like really, really -"

He's rambling so I hold my hand up to stop him. He sounds genuinely distraught, and while I am still pissed, I know everyone already thinks we're together, so I decide not to fight it. 

He takes my outstretched hand and pulls it to him. He presses it against his chest. "Forgive me?" he whispers, impugning me with his eyes. I can do nothing but nod. I should start playing with kids my own age.

"Jacob, I don't know if I can be... what you want me to be. But I like you a lot and you're my friend and I don't -" he cuts me off by pulling me into a bone-crushing hug.

"Ow," I cry into his chest.

"Sorry, Bells," he says, and releases me. He holds me at arms length, his hands on my shoulders. I give him a look. "Sorry. Bell-a," he corrects himself. I smile at him. A small part of me, deep inside, wants to punch him in the gut just to remind him of what a supreme idiot he is. But I don't. I just smile, and this time, when he takes my hand, I don't pull away.

I stuff the rose in my locker because I don't want to carry it around and have to defend my virginity all day. Everyone assumes I blew Jacob this weekend and I don't want to carry it around like a scarlet letter for the rest of the afternoon.

I meet up with Rosalie and Emmett in front of the Little Theater before class starts. I'm holding Jacob's hand and Rose is holding Emmett's. I realize that we look like a couple of couples, so I give Jacob's hand a quick squeeze and let go. I don't want to hurt his feelings, so I pretend like I need my hands to dig an apple out of my backpack.

As I eat it, I look up through my lashes at Jake, hoping he won't notice. He's looking at me with a sort of sad, hopeful gleam in his eye. _At least he's always straightforward with his feelings,_ I think to myself. I can never tell what's going on in Edward's head. I should probably stop comparing them. I know I have to pair off soon - Rose has Em, Angela has Eric, and given the way Jessica is eying Mike, I think everyone will be in a couple before long. I have to play this stupid high school game and pick someone before I fall off the social scene and start spending weekends with Charlie in a canoe.

My choices are limited: it's Jacob or it's Edward, but who knows if Edward would chose me, too? That guy is so fucking hard to read. But I think it's safe to say that between the two, there's only one logical conclusion.

But it's not even that I'm worried that if I don't find a boyfriend that I'll have no friends, it's that I know I _should _have a boyfriend. It's what normal teenagers do. And I so desperately want to be normal.

When I arrived in Forks, pale as a ghost, awkward, pin thin and with a fresh restraining order against my own mother, I could feel the stares penetrating me. I was horrible to look at, but what was even worse was that everyone in Forks knew I was here out of necessity. I had no place else to go, and my story was riddled with drama and gossip. I was the freak in town. The talk about me only died down once I'd proven myself. I successfully made friends, auditioned for the school play, and attended parties with Rosalie. My behavior was average, and I was soon able to fade into the tapestry of Forks.

So, logically, I think I need to take the next step. I need to behave as normal kids do. And I guess that I'm okay with choosing Jacob.

He knows me. He never asks or pushes me about my story. It's the one thing he won't push about. Last August, my very first week here, we went cliff diving at First Beach. The cover-up on my cheekbone smeared when my face hit the water. He saw my black eye; I mean, he really saw it. He reached forward to touch it but when I flinched away from him, he just nodded and said, "I get it." And he left it at that. It was like he understood what had happened and just let it be.

Sure, the kid got on my nerves on a daily basis. He'd bruised me just like Phil had, and he was utterly stubborn. But he felt familiar, safe. And at the very least, he could serve as a distraction from Edward. He could both distract me from thinking about him, and distract others from thinking that I was thinking about him. I don't think I could handle the teasing if people knew about the night I'd spent at Edward's house. I was not equipped to deal with that kind of ostracism. It would be heartbreaking, demeaning, and humiliating. I'd had enough of that for one lifetime.

I finish eating my apple and toss the core in the trash. I wipe my hand off on the front of my dress and reach for Jacob's. He smiles so hard that his face practically splits open. It's kind of endearing, in a sort of creepy, obsessive way. I try to remind myself that this is the only way I can be normal, and therefore happy.

We walk into the theater and take our usual seats in the third row. Mr. Edward has his back to us and is writing on the board. I watch as he sort of tenses up when he hears us come in. He's so on edge today. It's kind of obnoxious. He turns around and I have to suppress a smile; he's so goddamn cute in his sweater, holding his dry-erase marker. Jacob catches me smirking at Mr. Edward and lays his hand down on my knee protectively. At first I cringe away from his rough touch, but steady myself by repeating my mantra: normal is happy.

We all get out our notebooks to copy down the vocabulary words. I snicker to myself that both 'wanton' and 'leer' are on the list. Is it just me, or are these words totally dirty? Maybe it's just me.

Mr. Edward tells us that he'll be announcing the Spring musical tomorrow during lunch. I turn to Rosalie to exchange a squeal and she's practically slapping herself - and Emmett - with glee. I'm pretty excited about the next play, but not nearly as excited as Rosalie is. She's the star. I sigh inwardly.

"You better audition, Bella," Jacob whispers in my ear. "You're the most talented girl at Forks."

I roll my eyes at him and slap his arm playfully with the back of my hand. _Yeah fucking right._

As always, Mr. Edward won't let us do anything without circling up first. Jacob takes my hand again and we walk together to the stage. When we get up there, Jessica and Lauren are flirting with Mr. Edward. I feel that familiar pang of jealousy kick me in the stomach, so I focus my attention on Jacob instead.

"Hey. We, uh, we should hang out this weekend," I say. "Maybe I'll actually ride the bike this time."

He lights up like a fucking Christmas tree. "Seriously? That would be so awesome," he beams, and grips my hand a little tighter.

Edward starts talking, but I try to ignore the soothing, taunting nature of his voice. He's explaining how to play Go. Evidently, this lot of idiots doesn't know how to play it, but it was a pretty regular exercise in theatre class back in Phoenix. This game is really pretty easy, so I don't pay much attention to Edward's demonstration. I watch Jacob learn it, which is pretty funny to look at because he keeps making these hilarious confused faces. It cracks me up. And every time I giggle, he looks down at me and gives my hand a little squeeze.

I don't like it, but I can deal with it. People are starting to walk about the stage, changing places, but no one points to Jake or at me, so I keep watching his eyes dart back and forth and his mouth open and close.

"Eye contact, guys. You need to be looking for the next pointer. Follow along," Mr. Edward barks. _Jeez, asshole. Cool it. We get it._

I look away from Jacob to see that Edward is glaring lasers at Jacob. He grumbles a "go," and tosses me a wayward look before he raises his arm to point at Quil. Edward marches toward Jake like he's ready to kill. It doesn't make any fucking sense, unless... he's... jealous. I almost laugh at the preposterous idea. He's a smart, attractive, older man. And I'm a stupid, ugly, gangly teenager with no life. The fact that Jacob and some randos back in Phoenix showed some interest is totally immaterial because I'm pretty sure everyone's just playing this stupid high school game and picking someone to make out with to fit in.

I hate myself for even coming up with the idea that hot, sexy, beautiful Edward could be jealous of a high school kid for holding my hand. I bite the inside of my mouth to help me steer my thoughts away from the angry man charging across the circle toward Jacob.

Quil gives Jake permission to cross the circle, and he leaves my side. Suddenly, I feel like crying. I can tell Edward's pissed at me and I don't know exactly what I did. I guess it's because I forced myself into his house and into his bed and into his life and I'm just a stupid fucking little girl always seeking out attention, and now he can't shake me. He's standing next to me now, his chest heaving in rage.

I fight back the tears. I can understand why he'd be irritated that I came over that night and why he wouldn't want a clingy high school girl attached to him all the time... but I don't know why he hates me so much. I just wanted someone to look after me for one fucking night, that's all. I didn't ask him for anything. And now... now he hates me and I have no one.

I'm never going to be normal. I dig my nails into the outsides of my thighs and try to focus on the physical pain more than the emotional. I've always dealt better with physical wounds. I know how to break up a blood blister and how to cover a black eye. I know how to treat cigarette burns and soothe fingernail scratches. I can comb my hair to cover the bald spots from when it gets ripped out, and I can sling my own arm up when I think it's been broken.

But I have no fucking clue how to deal with this aching sensation at my core.

I can feel the hate radiating off Edward like the heat from the sidewalk in July. It crashes over me and I struggle to ignore it as I fix my eyes unseeingly forward. But when I feel Edward's hateful gaze on me, I can't help it, my head turns and I look him in the face.

His eyes are narrowed and his lips are pressed together. His breathing is rhythmic and heavy. I try to figure out what's going on with him, but too soon, he looks away. He quickly breaks up the group to find our scene partners, and I walk across the circle to meet Jacob.

"What's wrong?" he asks. I force a smile.

"Just getting into character..." I lie vaguely.

"Cool," he nods, and puts his arm around me. I can't help but lean into his touch. I need to be comforted so badly right now, but for what?

We go into the woodshop and get out our scripts and word cards as Edward's instructed.

"What word did you write on yours?" I prompt.

"Annoyed," he says. "I hate stupid theatre exercises."

"Yeah, I do too." It's not exactly true, but it's close to it. "I wrote 'pain.'"

"Sweet, well, uh... Let's work those into the scene. You act like you're in pain and I'll act annoyed." He pauses. "We have to try it, so let's just get it over with."

"Good plan. Let's read this through." I pause to think about Harper's character and say the first line. "Where were you?"

"Out." He says it flatly, in Joe's tone of voice.

"Where?" I ask, gazing at him.

"Just out. Thinking." He's a little louder this time.

I put on a blank facade. "It's late."

"I had a lot to think about."

"I burned dinner.

"Sorry."

"Not my dinner. My dinner was fine. Your dinner. I put it back in the oven and turned everything up as high as it could go and I watched til it burned black. It's still hot. Very hot. Want it?"

"You didn't have to do that." Jacob takes a step forward.

"I know. It just seemed like the kind of thing a mentally deranged sex-starved pill-popping housewife would do." I blush a little bit having to say sex aloud in front of Jake, but remind myself that it's just a scene.

"Uh huh," Jacob says suggestively. I have to remind myself again that we're acting, but it does seem like he's broken character.

I try to focus myself and continue acting. "So I did it," I say in Harper's child-like, stoned tone. "Who knows anymore what I have to do?"

Jacob takes another step toward me. "How many pills?" he barks.

"A bunch," I slur. "Don't change the subject."

He turns to leave. "I won't talk to you when you..."

I really start working myself up, digging deep into the character and trying to ignore my own pain. "No. No. Don't do that! I'm...I'm fine, pills are not the problem, not our problem, I WANT TO KNOW WHERE YOU'VE BEEN! I WANT TO KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON!" I scream in Jacob's face, trying only to see Joe in it.

Jacob flinches, but finds his character again. "Going on with what? The job?"

"Not the job," I say blankly again.

"I said I need more time," Jacob recites, getting a bit heated now.

"Not the job!"

"Mr. Cohn, I talked to him on the phone, he said I had to hurry..."

"Not the..."

"But I can't get you to talk sensibly about anything so -"

"SHUT UP!" I scream as Harper snaps.

"Then what?" Jake takes a final step forward and grips me by the tops of my shoulders, his large hands nearly meeting each other across my back. He shakes me, still in character.

Suddenly Mr. Edward is right in Jacob's face. I didn't even know he was in the room, watching us rehearse. "Mr. Black, I'm sure I don't have to remind you that this is a hands-off campus," he snivels. Jacob's mouth pops open and his jaw goes slack. I look at him, probably mirroring his expression. _What the hell brought this on? _"So, please, keep your hands off of Miss Swan," Mr. Edward growls through gritted teeth.

This is so fucked up.

"It's for the scene. I'm just acting, man," Jacob reasons.

"Sure, Black. Like hell you are." This is so incomprehensible. I don't get it. Another hot and cold moment? Why would Edward care if Jacob touches me for a scene? It's not like he's going to hurt me or anything...

But then it dawns on me. Jacob _has _hurt me. And Edward saw those bruises. Granted, I didn't tell him how I got them, but I'm pretty sure someone with a Masters can figure out how a teenage girl would get massive, hand-shaped bruises on her arms after going to a party. I'm busted.

So Edward's being... protective? _Great, another father figure. Just what I asked for._

"Mr. Cullen, really. It's not a big deal. It's for the scene. It's a fight scene," I intervene. I don't want to defend Jacob or myself to Edward, so I avoid eye contact with both of them. "I promise." I clear my throat and glance up at Edward briefly so I know he gets the picture.

He surrenders. "Alright. Alright. I'm sorry. Just, please, be careful. Safety first. And don't touch the tools." Edward walks away and I can't tell if he's talking about the shop equipment or Jacob when he directs that in my direction.

"What the hell was that?" Jacob laughs.

"Hell if I know," I lie. "Let's run it again."

We rehearse the scene again twice before the period is over. I'm extremely distracted and I can't seem to work up the same amount of fervor as before, so I kind of give up by the end.

Choir passes in a boring blur. I can't focus on the present. All I can think about is what happened between Edward and I in DramaLit earlier and the fact that I'll be alone in his office with him after lunch. My stomach keeps turning and I know I won't be able to eat anything.

Finally, class is over. I dart out of the room and go straight to the bathroom. I throw up in the toilet before I even get a chance to close the stall door. I feel all of my emotions in my bowels, I swear. I grab a paper towel and rinse my mouth out at the sink. I'm disgusted with myself both for throwing up in public and for letting myself get so worked up over _boys._

I go out and meet everyone on the quad. It's a nice enough day to stand outside for a little bit and socialize. Even though it's warm for January, the last thing I feel like doing is hanging out in a group of people, pretending to care about their stupid little lives. I don't care how warm it is right now. Nothing is worth this kind of torture.

The bell rings, signaling the end of lunch. I feel a mild sense of relief, until I realize that it's now 6th period.

Time to go meet with Edward.

**Thanks, C Shell for such a speedy bate! I'm sorry to all my readers for the delay this week. *shakes fist at computer***


	17. A Sea of Troubles

**Author's Note: The characters and settings of Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. The original content, ideas, and plot lines of this story belong to the author. The events in this story are fictional and any similarities to actual persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Additionally, this story contains subject matter not suitable for minors. Underage drinking, drug use, consensual sex, strong language, abuse, and other adult content may be present in this story. Again, all sex in this story is consensual. If you are under 18 and/or uncomfortable with any of these subjects, please be advised that this story may not be for you.**

Leading Lady

Chapter 17 – A Sea of Troubles

BELLA.

I stand in front of Edward's office. The door is cracked open and I know he's in there waiting for me. I take a deep breath - an attempt to slow my too-quick heartbeat. I don't know what to do. Do I go right in? Do I knock? Should I wait for him to come out and get me? I lift my hand to lightly rap on the door, when it abruptly swings open.

I stand there frozen for a second, my book bag weighing down my right shoulder, my left hip jutting out to the side. He takes in my stance with a chuckle.

"Smella…" he laughs at first, and then his face drops. "What are you doing outside? What's wrong?" he asks with a crooked smile. There's sadness and confusion in his eyes, but I try to not let that soften me. _He's only pretending to care about you,_ I think. _Once we're alone he'll really show you how much he hates you. Or Jacob._

I feel my knees start to quake, and I whisper, "nothing," under my breath.

I can understand his anger towards Jacob, but I can't figure out why he's been so short with me today. I don't deserve this kind of harsh treatment. I sigh and take a seat opposite him at his desk. It reminds me of our first real encounter. He was short with me then, too; he basically chastised me for making a mistake I didn't even know I was making. I had been so excited to meet him, finally hear his voice for the fist time, and he fucking shut that down before I could even get a chance to enjoy being in his presence. I should have known from the beginning that he was a total jerk. But he really confused me when he seemed so willing to help this weekend. And when he wrote me those sticky notes. And when he asked me what else I was going to take off. And when I caught him looking at me while reading love poems. I don't know.

How can he be mad at me when he smiled so? And what of the nickname? Doesn't that mean he likes me? That was playful teasing, wasn't it?

I know that he can't possibly return the ardor I feel for him. My desire to be near him, to smell the Altoids on his breath, to once, just once reach out and stroke the back if his hand... It burns like a fire now. What started as a low smolder has built over the last few weeks and now I can hardly bear to be in his presence. To be so close to something so forbidden is torture. Yet it hurts me to stay away.

I feel a pull towards him. My need to see him, to coax conversation, compliments, or attention of any kind has become all-consuming. I spend the majority of my time devising ways to get close to him, thinking of excuses, reasons why I should show up in his office.

He catches me in my reverie. I'm imagining the feel of his rough hand touching mine... Touching...

"I'm glad we could finally schedule a time to meet and discuss _Crime and Punishment_. I'm sorry it took us so long to get together. Why don't you grab a seat?" he says, and gestures to the chair in front of his desk.

My mind is swirling with a mixture of lascivious fantasies and self-righteous indignation. I don't feel present at all. I must have followed his instructions because I find myself sitting across from him with my bag draped over the edge of the chair and my hands tightly gripped in my lap around a poetry book.

"It's no problem," I say. Somehow I don't think we'll be discussing C&P much today. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest, the blood pumping in my temples. This man makes me extremely uneasy and the fact that I know he's mad at me and Jacob is really putting me on edge. "I..." it's difficult for me to pull myself from my confusion. My brain is so filled with unanswerable questions. I snap back down to earth. "Remember that book I, uh, I took from you?" I lift it so he can see.

He cracks a smile. Is he happy about this? Have I pleased him? I want to please him more.

"It was really good." I blink at him.

"I'm glad you liked it," he chokes out dryly, almost smirking. Is he teasing me again?

"I did. Like it, I mean. It was pretty inspirational. I want to try writing every kind of poem in that book. I think it'd be a fun challenge."

He smiles again. My heart is melting. I can feel it. It's slipping down warmly over my lungs, my stomach... My vital organs all seem to be reacting to his little grin. It's hard to remain mad, if that's what I am, when he smiles that way.

"Do it," he says.

My heart stops. _Do it? Do what?_

With a sudden splash of realization, my heart starts again. I feel myself flush. My pulse patters weakly along. This guy is giving me a heart condition.

He means for me to follow through with my plan at attempting these poems, of course. How have I become so dense? Being near him is so exacting and so distracting. In his presence I feel every nerve in my body standing on end. Blazing like an inferno. I feel so alive, but at the same time I can't get my mind to focus. I feel like I'm living in a haze. It's become hard to conjure up memories of my time with him once I'm not around him. It's as if I've been watching my interactions with him rather than actually experiencing them.

He must think I'm an idiot. I sit there for a minute just catching my breath.

"Oh yeah. Okay," I breathe. I'm so transparent. He knows everything. He can probably see my heart pounding in my chest. "Would you read them? If I wrote them? Poems." What's wrong with me? _Speak full sentences, Bella. Come on._

"Of course. I'd be really interested to see what you come up with. You write beautifully."

Now _I'm_ smiling.

"Your essay, the one you wrote when you applied for Advanced Placement English, I got a copy of it. Well, I got a copy of everyone's, but I was just reading yours before you came in." He clears his throat. "It was really good. Thorough, well thought out, and lovely, lovely prose, Bella. Very nice. Well done. I was very impressed."

I feel like I'm going to jump out of my skin. Hot and cold with me again. This time very, very hot. "Really?" I squeak.

"Yeah. Uh-huh. It was great. You should be proud."

"I think I am," I beam.

The room falls quiet for a second. Edward's eyes drop to the desk and I straighten out my dress a bit. My stomach turns, reminding me of how nervous I am. The high I felt from his compliment wears off as I work up the courage to show him my work.

"So, I uh, I already wrote one." I pull the paper out and hand it to him. "Just don't read it in front of me. I'm too embarrassed," I admit.

"Ooh, is it personal?" He jokes.

It is personal, and I feel a little hurt by his joke. I almost ask to take the poem back because I know I can't handle him teasing me about it. I want him to look at it and give me constructive criticism, to help me, but I can't take a ribbing from him. Not when it means so much. Not when he means so much.

I look down at my hands and try not to show how upset I am. "So," I say, putting on a happy face and trying to direct the conversation towards a book discussion.

Edward gets up out of his seat and walks over to my side of the desk, dragging his chair with him as he walks. He puts his chair up next to me and takes a seat. I avoid making eye contact, but he searches out my eyes until I look at him.

"Bella," he whispers. I notice out of the corner of my eye that his finger tips sort of twitch in my direction, but his hands stay in his lap. "Bella, is everything okay?"

"Yeah, totally," I sigh. _What the fuck am I supposed to say?_

"You're a horrible liar," he chuckles.

"Well, you're a horrible person!" I blurt. My eyes go wide and I look back at my hands. There's no taking that back now.

"Okay, I can accept that," he says slowly. "But I'd like to hear your reasons, if you don't mind."

"I just don't know why you hate me so much." I grumble.

"Oh, Bella. I could never hate you," he says, just above a whisper. I look up at him, my brow knit together in hope and anticipation. He places his hand on my knee. "Really. I don't."

"Good." I say, so ashamed now. "I'm sorry I called you horrible." My lip quivers and I pinch it between my teeth. "But why have you been so short with me today? You seem so mad."

"I don't know how to put this," he says. He takes a deep breath and let's it out in a puff. "I don't like seeing you and Jacob together. I know he gave you those bruises, Bella."

I nod slowly in surprise and understanding, and rock back and forth a bit.

"I don't think he's good for you, Isabella. I don't think he _can_ be good for you."

I shrug. "That doesn't matter." A sad frown creeps across my face as I feel my stomach hit the floor. A hot, uncomfortable tremor runs through me and I choke the tears back. "No one has to be good to me."

"That may be true - that no one _has_ to be good to anyone - but everyone should be good to _you_. You are so wonderful, Bella."

And I can't hold it back anymore. A sob escapes my mouth and I hold my chest. That's the biggest goddamn lie I've ever heard. I don't deserve anything more than what I get and to hope for better is a sad, stupid undertaking. I've learned that hope only leads to disappointments. I got tired of being let down years ago so I've learned to just settle for what I have and try to enjoy what good I find in life.

"I am not, Edward," I cry, and put my hands over my face. "Please don't lie to me. You can do whatever else you want, just please don't lie."

Suddenly I feel his warm, strong arms around me. I sob into his sweater as he lifts me into his lap. "I'm not lying, Bella. What in the world would make you think that? You're so smart and funny and beautiful. How can you think otherwise?"

A flash of Phil's hand striking my cheek flickers before me. _Stupid bitch, _I hear him say.

I sob harder.

I dig my fists desperately into this sweater as my body trembles and aches, releasing low cries. My chest hurts. I need something to hold on to. I need something firm, something real and I grasp to find it.

I feel like my chest is caving in and I can catch my breath. My eyes are bleary and I can no longer make out the knit of Edward's sweater as the tears blot out my vision.

I twitch and convulse as I try to calm down, but it just hurts so fucking much.

I can feel his body tense up as I sniffle into his chest, but he just holds me there and lets me cry.

This is so embarrassing. I pull myself together. "I'm sorry," I hiccup.

"It's okay, Bella," he says as he strokes my hair.

"No, listen," I say sternly, wiping my face with my sleeve and looking him in the eye. "I'm sorry, Edward. I shouldn't have expected so much from you. It's just... this weekend was so great. You made me feel cared for, respected... and that was so nice. But I know I shouldn't have hoped for more. I understand you're my teacher and things shouldn't have gone the way they went." I feel a little strange telling him all this while I'm still sitting in his lap, but I have to get it out while I still have the chance. "I'm really, really sorry. I don't want you to get in trouble because of me. It's just..." I frown again against the ache in my chest and try to not let the tears come back. "Edward. Mr. Cullen, I've never had one fucking stable thing in my life. Ever. Not one. And when you looked after me, when you talked to me, and _listened_ to me... Well, it felt so good. And I wanted more of that. I couldn't help it. I wanted someone to care." I pause and stare at the collar of his sweater. "But I shouldn't have expected you to care about me."

"Oh, god. Bella. Bella, I do care about you." His words crash down on me and the tears flow. I lean into the crook of his neck and he cradles me there. He strokes the back of my head with his long fingers and I feel like my chest is about to burst. This is all too much.

I nuzzle his neck, just wanting to smell him, feel him and enjoy this moment before it's gone forever. I feel him pull me in closer and lean his head against mine. His rough stubble scratches lightly on my forehead and as if by instinct, I lean into it. I lift my head to thank him, tell him how grateful I am that he's listened to me, but when I look up at him, our eyes lock and my breath catches.

His hand slides to the nape of my neck and he pulls me even closer to him. I feel his minty breath on my face and we're just inches apart. My eyes slip closed and I press my mouth to his.

It feels like everything and nothing at all. I think I must be asleep or dead. I push into him a little, trying to see if this is real.

His other hand wraps around my waist and he cradles me against him while he returns the kiss. It's slow and gentle, his mouth soft and reverent against mine. He removes his hand from behind my head and brushes away my tears as he sucks tenderly on my bottom lip.

I press into him more and he deepens the kiss. His tongue meets mine as he parts my lips with his and I feel something break inside me. Like I don't even care anymore. My hands fly to his hair and I kiss him back fiercely, pouring every ounce of longing, pain, obsession, adoration, and passion I've been bottling up inside into it.

He returns every bit of feeling I put out.

His hands roam my body and tangle in my hair. His stubble scratches my chin and his body presses into mine.

I feel him, I really feel all of him for the first time and it is so real. I feel submerged in the sensation and my brain shuts off, only allowing me to _feel._

I can't even think.

But too soon, far too soon, he breaks the kiss. "Bella," he whispers, his voice sounding new and different to me.

"Edward," I pant back.

"That was... I... We shouldn't do this here, not in my office."

I untangle myself from his grasp and set myself back in my own chair, utterly humiliated. _How could I have done this? Thrown myself at a teacher like some sort of floozy seeking out a better grade._ I put my head down and play with the hem of my dress.

"Hey, don't do that," Edward says. He grips my chin and lifts my face. "Don't... don't look so sad. I hate it when you look like that."

"Okay," I say, and force a smile. My emotions have run the gamut today and I suddenly feel utterly exhausted.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" He tucks a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. I nod, unable to meet his gaze.

The bell rings sharply. It barely breaks through to me. I can hardly see straight, let alone hear.

"Hey. Don't be late for psych."

_What?_ He knows my schedule. There's not enough room in my brain to even consider what that means.

"Can I hold on to this?" I ask, and pick up the poetry book from where it fell on the floor. I wag it at him.

"As long as you like. Have fun with it."

"I will," I sigh. Leaving this small, warm, private room is going to be painful. I gather my things and stand up.

"And I'll enjoy this," he says, and taps on the paper I gave him.

With a little wave of my hand I turn the corner and float away from him.

His words echo in my head as I drift across campus. _Lovely, lovely._ I feel his pull on me again. I want to run to him and catch him in my arms and thank him for all his words. But I fix my eyes forward and keep walking.

I stumble into class and take my seat in the front row, next to Jacob. I don't look at him, I just casually run my fingers through my hair and face the front of the classroom.

"Today we'll be learning about infatuation."

_Oh, Jesus._

I slam the door of my truck and scamper up the steps to the front door. I kick my shoes off and shrug out of my damp jacket, eager to get up to my room and lay down.

Psychology was pure fucking torture. I felt like I was holding the secret to the universe. Jacob kept trying to play footsie with me, but I'm sure I looked like the cat that ate the canary. I couldn't pay him any attention.

Mrs. Denali droned on about how the brain processes feelings of love and infatuation, but all I could think about was the feel of Edward's lips on mine, and all the things he'd said to me.

I kept hearing him call me beautiful in my head, and every time I did, I couldn't help but roll my eyes at myself immediately after. I must have looked like a damn crazy person.

"Bella, that you?" I jump at the sound of Charlie's voice. He's usually asleep when I get back from school, so I don't expect to see him sitting at the table in a flannel shirt, looking exhausted as hell.

"Yeah, it's me," I call back.

"Can you come in here? We need to talk about something." _Shit, shit, shit._ My stomach hits the floor. He knows about this weekend. He knows about the kiss. He knows that I'm a horrible girl and he's going to release me back to the state for embarrassing him in his own jurisdiction. I want to die.

I know I have no choice but to face the music, so I walk slowly in my stocking feet to the kitchen.

"Have a seat, sweetheart." I know this is going to be bad. I sit and eye him wearily as I wait for the other shoe to drop.

I don't say anything because I know my rights and I don't want to further incriminate myself. I briefly flash on the day I filed the restraining order. The officer told me I had to right to have a lawyer or parent present, but I had neither; my mother was already in police custody, I didn't even know my father's telephone number, and there was no way I could afford a lawyer. So I filed the paperwork on my own.

I wait for Charlie to say something.

"Now, I'll admit that is just as embarrassing for me." _Yeah, I know. This is embarrassing for me too. Admitting that I kissed my fucking teacher. Why don't you take me out back and shoot me like a fucking animal and get it over with? _I try not to roll my eyes. "I know I got back from Arizona a while ago and I should have told you as soon as I knew."

My body chills. What is he taking about?

"Knew what, dad?" I ask hesitantly.

He reaches into his bag and produces a Manila folder.

"Listen, kid," he says, and shifts uncomfortably in his chair. "Please know that I'm really sorry. I just didn't know how to tell you this. I really shouldn't have put it off. I was just scared." I can't imagine what could scare Charlie and I don't really want to.

He opens the folder and inside is a birth certificate. My birth certificate.

I've never seen it before. It has three creases in it like it's been folded up in an envelope for a long time. I'm distracted by the tattered appearance of this document that I've never laid eyes on before in my life. It looks like someone pulled it from the garbage. Maybe my dad did.

Charlie breaks my thoughts.

"I know that you always thought your birthday was in January, but that's because that's when your mother's birthday is. Your birthday is in September." He looks down at the paper and points out my date of birth. "I know I should have remembered my own daughter's birthday, but Renee had me tricked as well. Like I said, this is really embarrassing."

I can't get my eyes to focus on the actual writing on the page. My brain is fighting against what Charlie is telling me.

"But dad, my birthday is January 29th. My driver's license says that my birthday is January 29th..." I fight. "I don't get how it's possible."

"I know, kiddo." Charlie reaches across the table to pat the top of my hand. When I jerk it away, he doesn't say anything. He just keeps trying to explain. "When we went to get your license this summer, I had to fudge some paperwork. The court didn't send you with any documents and I wasn't on speaking terms with Renee or Phil. It seemed impossible with them..." he sighs. "I want to give you the most normal teenage life I can. You deserve to drive your own car, do the stuff other kids do. Things were already so rocky for you that I didn't want to complicate them by worrying you when I couldn't find your birth certificate or social security card, or anything. I had a friend at the DMV push you through the system, and when you passed the driving test, I was just so proud. I really wanted you to get your license, to feel normal."

Even though I feel like my brain is about to explode with all this new information, my heart swells to hear that Charlie has worked so hard to give me a new and hopefully potentially normal life here. Even if what he did could have cost him his job.

I stare at the birth certificate, willing my eyes to see what's there. September 13, 1988.

I'm 18 already.

And I'm no longer in anyone's custody.

"Now, hey; I see that look on your face." Charlie almost laughs. I don't see what's funny about any of this, but I resist rolling my eyes. "Before you go thinking that you can run away from me or start smoking, or anything like that, remember that I am your father and I love you. I just got you back and I won't be losing you to some gentleman caller or to lung cancer, okay? I want you to stay here, but you should know that as long as you're under my roof, you're under my rules."

"Yes, Ch—Dad," I mumble. The last thing I'm thinking about is trying to run away. To anywhere but across the street.

**A/N: I will be away in Paris for 2 weeks, but my beta, C Shell, will be posting the chapters for me while I'm out of the country. Fear not. **

**Reading your reviews really makes my day, so please, if you want to share thoughts, questions, predictions, or complaints, do so! I LOVE reading what you guys think! Lots of love and see you when I'm back! -Ell**


	18. On the Windy Side of Care

**Author's Note: The characters and settings of Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. The original content, ideas, and plot lines of this story belong to the author. The events in this story are fictional and any similarities to actual persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Additionally, this story contains subject matter not suitable for minors. Underage drinking, drug use, consensual sex, strong language, abuse, and other adult content may be present in this story. Again, all sex in this story is consensual. If you are under 18 and/or uncomfortable with any of these subjects, please be advised that this story may not be for you.**

Leading Lady

Chapter 18 – On The Windy Side of Care

EDWARD.

After Bella leaves my office, I sit in my chair for at least an hour, completely stunned.

I don't know what to make of what just happened. _Did I kiss her? Did she kiss me? Did anyone see us? _

What is this nagging ache in my chest all about?

When the bell rings to signal that school is out, I slowly, robotically, lift myself out of my chair. The erection I've been sporting off and on since early this morning has refused to abate, and I'm practically crippled by it. I need relief. I close my eyes and try to recite the "to be or not to be" speech backwards in my head to distract myself. It helps, and I get up to pack up my things and walk to my car.

I'm supposed to keep office hours after school, but I simply can't today. I leave a sticky note on my door that tells my students to email me if they'd like to set up a time to meet. I jet to my car, half running and half hopping. My dick stays down, painfully chafing inside my ever-tightening trousers.

The second I'm sitting in my Volvo, however, he's back and ready for action. I don't know how this is even possible, because it's almost painful. I can smell Bella's scent from when she was in here over the weekend. I quiver.

I speed home, desperate to jack off and take a nap. I need to shut my brain off for a while.

I park my car in front of my house and try to avoid looking at Bella's house. The guilt, the desire, the worry... they pull me in different directions, but right now I'm on a mission.

I don't even bother bringing my bag in. I leave it on the passenger seat. I lock the car by beeping the key fob over my shoulder and run into the house. The second the front door closes behind me, my hands are on my belt buckle as I struggle to remove it. I take it off and accidentally lash my lower back as I whip it out of the belt loops.

I stumble out of my pants as I make my way to the stairs. I manage to get one leg free as I start my way up. My shoes are still on and I can't get the other pant leg off over it, so I march my way up to the second floor with my trousers trailing me. I need to rid myself of all my clothes. Like my aching cock, they have become a chafing, irksome nuisance. I pull off my sweater, but get my head momentarily stuck in the neckline. I tug with more vigor and it comes off, but not before the wool scratches my face. My button-down comes off next. It's a mess of buttons and buttonholes and I can't get the sleeve cuffs off over my hands.

"FUCK!" I scream, as I start to really lose it. I need my hands on my dick now. I'm shaking with desperation and frustration.

I go to my bedside table where my lube is stashed. I lose all patience and yank the entire drawer out at once. It falls on the floor and the contents spill out everywhere. I watch as my bottle of Wet rolls under the bed. "For fucks sake," I groan, and push my shoes off with my feet. I get on my hands and knees in just my boxers, socks, and undershirt. I can see the bottle about halfway under the bed. I lay down on my stomach and my sore cock painfully slaps the floor. "Mutherfucker," I cry out in agony. I stretch my hand out toward the lube. My fingertips hit the bottle and it moves further away from me. I think I'm about to Incredible Hulk right out of my tee shirt. Or cry.

I get up and move to the other side of the bed where the bottle is now laying against the wall. I grab the bottle and try to open it, but the flip top won't pop open. My muscles are twitching from all the tension in my body and I can't get a grip on the bottle. I twist the top off. A flood of lube pours out over my hands and shirt. I don't even care. I pull my boxers down roughly and kick them across the room. My slick hands finally meet my throbbing cock.

"Ah," I moan, as I handle my tender hard on a bit too brusquely. I loosen my grip and give myself a light pump. The much-needed pleasure is almost overwhelming. I lean against the wall by my bed as I tentatively stroke myself again. A low hum echoes in my chest as I sink to the floor.

I rub myself repeatedly, up and down, palm my head and squeeze the base. I shut my eyes for a second and the image of Isabella's soft pink lips nearing my face invades my mind.

The orgasm I've been waiting for all day takes over and I come onto the comforter that's hanging off the edge of my bed.

"Holy shit," I moan, as I take my shirt off and wipe my hands on it. I sit there, bare-assed, on the hardwood floor for a few minutes and try to catch my breath. _I gotta work on my hang time,_ I laugh to myself. I know the reason why I'm thinking this is because in the back of my mind - but clearly, not _too_ far back – I plan on making love to Bella. And I want to make sure it's a pleasurable experience for the both of us. My knee-jerk reaction is to scold myself for such dirty thoughts, but I don't have the kind of energy for that right now and I know that it's a bit too late for that anyway.

I think a shower is in order before this nap I've been planning on. I don't want to get into bed literally covered in lube and jizz, so I grab the comforter and throw it into the hallway to remind myself to wash it before too long. I look around my bedroom. There's shit literally everywhere. My clothing is strewn about and my boxers sit atop my bedside table, the drawer of which is tossed haphazardly on the ground. Condoms and back issues of Penthouse scatter the floor around it and my shoes are nearby.

It looks like the most desperate sex scene ever; only the other person's clothing is nowhere to be seen. I don't think I've ever been so eager to get it on with anyone before in my life - let alone myself. Bella, _god_... Bella is sending me into overdrive.

I take a long shower and let the hot water calm me down and clear my head. I have to think about things here a little bit. Kissing Bella was so wonderful, but so inappropriate. I know that it really should remain a one-time incident and that it should never be repeated. Ever. But I also know that it will probably happen again. If she'll let me.

I am such a fucking idiot.

I'm toweling myself off when my phone chirps from somewhere across the room, the alert for a missed a call. I wrap the towel around my waist and roll my eyes. I can't even remember the last time I spoke to my mother and I'm sure I have a momma beat down coming my way. She's probably wondering where my first day of school picture is, but seeing that I didn't take one... Well, whatever. I'll have Alice take one of me this weekend and I'll email my mother when I get the chance. She'll just have to cool her jets for a second.

I find my phone in the pocket of my pants, which are turned inside out and halfway out the door of my bedroom. I have to laugh. I was a man possessed.

When I check to see how long ago it was that my mom even called, it shows that the missed call isn't even from Chicago. It's from Bella.

My heart stills. This could mean a lot of things. I try to catch my breath. Maybe her father found out. Maybe she wants to press charges. Maybe she wants to run away together. I have no fucking clue. I check to see if she left a message, but she didn't. It confuses me. Should I call her back or wait for her to try again? Maybe she didn't even mean to call at all.

I feel like I'm in high school again, trying to decipher the cryptic actions of a girl. Then I remember that Bella actually is in high school herself. And I feel creepy. But still a bit needy and desperate for her.

I have to admit that I haven't been this excited about a girl since... ever. Of all the women I dated and knew in college and even grad school, Bella seems by far the most intelligent, self-sufficient, independent, strong-willed of all of them. Women who have five or even ten years on her are much less equipped to deal with the real world than she is and I can't help but love that about her. She doesn't seem like a typical seventeen-year-old girl. At all.

I imagine that, for her, high school is absolute torture. Having to listen to and even take part in the base, vapid, and meaningless goings on of small town teenagers must bore Bella to tears. Hell, it nearly kills me every day and I don't have to pretend to be part of it.

I focus back on my cell phone. Bella called. Bella called me and I didn't pick up. Shit, maybe she needs me and she couldn't leave a message. Is this like last time? Is she with Jacob?

I should have confronted her about her behavior with him in class this afternoon, but it was difficult to do when her mouth was covering mine.

But I know now - even more than I knew this morning - that Bella is more mine than she'll ever be his. Unless... I don't let myself think it. I'd throw my hand through a wall if I knew - or even believed – that she's slept with him.

The repulsive thought makes my dick want to crawl back inside my body. I want to throw up. I shiver.

I decide to send her a text. I need to know she's okay, but I don't want to call her back if it was just a pocket dial or if she can't actually speak right now.

_Sorry I missed your call. Everything okay? -Edward _

I take a deep breath and press send. I go to sit on the edge of my bed and put my head in my hands. I breathe steadily and slowly, and try to empty my mind. I'm on breath seventeen when my phone chimes.

_Just got some rough news. Wanted to talk to someone. Sorry I bothered you. P.S. Stop signing your texts, it makes you seem old. _

I can't help the smile that spreads across my face. I like this Bella, this teasing Bella. But then I look back at the first part of her message.

_Don't be sorry. I'm here if you need me. Feel free to call or come by, _I type quickly.

_My dad goes to work around 8. Can I come over after to talk? _

_Absolutely. :) _

_Cool, thanks. I'll bring you some lasagna. Gotta go memorize my lines now. _

I quiver at the thought of Bella back in my house, but shove that thought aside before my dick gets any bright ideas. _You're 9 years older than her,_ I sigh. I have to get some grading done before she gets here, so I turn off my phone and get dressed.

I have to go back out to my car to get the bag I so unceremoniously left in there. I run down my front steps in only my socks and try to dash to my car without getting my feet too wet. I don't know what I'm thinking because my socks are soaked in no time. I'm reaching into the passenger side door when I see a light flicker on across the street. _Bella's room. _I try not to look for too long. I don't want to be caught gaping at the bedroom of a teenage girl when her police chief father is likely sitting somewhere in that house, able to spot me.

It strikes me how dangerous getting close to Bella truly is. Her father owns a gun. I shiver and grab my things. With one last glance towards Bella's room, I see that she's seated at her desk, her head bent down. She's really studying her lines, I guess.

I yank my dirty socks off at the front door and throw them on the floor next to where I left my belt when I first came in.

I grade the rest of the pop quizzes at my coffee table while Oprah drones in the background. It gets so quiet and creepy in this house sometimes that even watching shoe makeovers beats the sound of the wind rattling the windows.

My stomach growls and I try to ignore it, remembering that Bella said she'd bring food. The idea of home-cooked food - food cooked by Bella - is almost overwhelming. I've been surviving on ramen, Kraft macaroni and cheese, and extra mayo club sandwiches from the diner for weeks. The thought of eating something carefully prepared by someone who actually knows what he or she is doing, in a well-equipped kitchen with fresh ingredients... It's too much to think about. My mouth waters.

I finish grading the last quiz. With the exception of one or two people who clearly didn't do the reading, the class did pretty well. I have to remember to praise them. Positive reinforcement is always better than negative, I've learned.

I get up and go to the kitchen because, realistically, I can't take it anymore. It's only a little after five now and Bella won't be coming over until eight. I grab a beer from the fridge and poke about for something to eat. There's a rotten apple in the crisper - Alice taught me that word - and a molding Tupperware of leftovers that I don't even recall making in the first place.

I toss them both in the trash and look in the pantry. I find an old bag of Cheetos and reach for it. _A beer and Cheetos… perfect. That should tide me over until dinner. _

I grab my Drama Lit textbook and carry it and my snack up to my bedroom. I need to memorize my lines for the scene I have to perform with Emmett. I totally left him hanging today when I went a bit ballistic on Bella and Jacob. Emmett didn't really seem to mind, though. He sat on a couch in the green room and pretended to read from his script, all the while watching Rosalie rehearse with Jessica.

I should have at least read through with him or run lines, but I was so full of rage that I couldn't even think straight. Now, I can't think straight for different reasons.

Maybe I shouldn't be having Bella over, even if it's just to talk and eat lasagna together. I really, really, overstepped the mark when I kissed her today and I know that having her in my house will only make things worse. More desperate.

She's sweet and dear and that's exactly the reason why I should stay away from her. I know she's sensitive and that she has issues that probably go back a lot further than she lets on. So do I, but I don't want to ruin what's so wonderful about her by burdening her with my troubles as well.

Watching the way my father treated my mother and the way she willingly kept herself in the dark really did a number on my head, I think. I know that if I really were to get into something with Bella, I would have to treat her right. But I don't know how to begin treating her.

She's so young and innocent and I don't want to spoil that. The girls I dated in college never meant much to me at all. I always had someone to sleep with if that's what I wanted, but I have to admit that I'd never actually taken one out on a date. I'd seen it in movies and even acted it out on stage, men taking women out, lavishing gifts on them, opening doors and pulling out chairs.

I try to do that with Bella, show her I respect her by allowing her to enter rooms ahead of me and making sure to stand when she gets up from her chair. But it's all so empty. Do people really act like this? How am I supposed to treat someone I actually... _like_?

My first thought is to buy her something. Flowers, maybe. But that feels hollow as well. I watched my father bring my mother red roses after he "tripped up," on several occasions. My mother never knew - or perhaps she did but never said anything - about Elizabeth, his girlfriend, mistress, who he kept on the side. But when I found out at age fourteen, he actually set up a bank account for me into which he would deposit money for each month that went by that Esme didn't hear from me about it.

The money in the account now is enough to pay off the mortgage on this house, but my father had insisted he pay for that, too, once Alice had it picked out for me. More hush money, I guess.

I'd tried to fight him off. I didn't want to look at my home and feel the guilt for my mother's inevitable pain and anger. I know that when she finds out, both Carlisle and I will be to blame now.

I feel guilty for keeping such a secret. But really, I don't think it's mine to tell. And I also feel bad for thinking so lowly of my own father. He's got a giant heart - which perhaps explains the reason why he feels the need to give it to _two_ women.

The hours he's worked overtime, the money he's donated to charity, the gifts and trips and tuitions he's paid for don't go unnoticed by Alice or myself. I'm incredibly grateful and I know that I'm spoiled beyond words, but I still can't help the bitter taste in my mouth when I think about my father in bed with another woman, while my mom waits up for him every night, worried he's in a car accident or being robbed at gunpoint.

I can't count all the times I came home after a late night of high school play rehearsal to find Esme at the kitchen counter, leaned over a glass of red wine with a look of fear and sorrow in her eyes.

I'd have to look at her and reassure her that dad was safe, that he'd be home soon, that she had nothing to worry about. And when she'd ask me how I knew, I'd have to tell her that I just knew, that I could feel it, when really I knew he was with Elizabeth, the tall, blonde nurse I saw him kissing one day in his office at the hospital.

I have to focus on something else. If I keep on going down this train of thought, I may find myself in tears. The anger I harbor for my father, for what he's done to Esme for so long, is so goddamn crippling. If I allow myself to dwell on it, I'll just feel heartbroken and hopeless.

I flop down on my bed with the textbook and my snack. I crack my book open and start to review the scene that Emmett and I chose together. It's an excerpt from Harold Pinter's _The Homecoming_. The scene is pretty light with some sexual undertones. I can see why Emmett likes it. And truthfully, I like it too. I'm allowed to sleaze it up a bit when it's under the guise of _acting._

I'm sipping my beer and smirking as I repeat aloud such lines as, "Are you telling me she's a tease? She's a tease!"

I'm cracking myself up, kind of getting a buzz going, and shouting in a fake British accent. I imagine having to say this kind of stuff in front of a whole class of students and I realize that some of the students - namely Jessica and Lauren - are going to lose their shit. Let them. It's going to be fucking hilarious.

I've been goofing off for a while like the total theatre nerd I am that I hardly notice that it's well after seven.

Fuck.

Bella is going to be here in a matter of minutes and the evidence of my disgusting bachelorhood is still scattered all over the house.

I leap out of bed and throw all my porn and lube back in the drawer on the floor. I get on my hands and knees just to make sure that there's nothing horribly embarrassing still hanging around. I pick up all my dirty clothes and throw them in the hamper. I straighten out my sheets and take care to remove my boxers from the table and replace the drawer.

I want my bedroom to look spick and span. Just in case_._

I literally slap myself across my face. _No. That will _not_ be happening tonight. Keep your hands to yourself, Cullen._ I fucking hate myself for letting my mind go there with Bella. I have to sit down and clear my head.

_Fuck,_ I breathe to myself. _She's not just another girl. Don't you dare treat her that way._

I grab my phone from the nightstand and turn it back on. It beeps. There's a new text from Bella.

_Hey, my dad just left for work. Can I still come over?_

I bite my lip. I grumble her name under my breath and type out a response.

_Give me 5. And don't forget the lasagna. _As soon as I hit send, I throw my phone down on my bed and strip out of my shirt. I pull on a vintage Chicago Bears tee shirt. I run into the hall and drag my nasty comforter downstairs to the laundry room and stuff it in the washer.

I hear a knock at the door. There's no way that it's already been five minutes, but I don't care. I've been waiting for Bella to get over here all afternoon and now it's finally time. I force myself to walk, not run, to the door. I totally forgot about the dirty socks and belt strewn by the front door. I grab them up and stuff them in the umbrella bucket thing Alice bought for me.

I greedily pull the door open and there she is. I stifle a smile. She's so beautiful. She's changed. She's wearing a pair of jeans and a v-neck sweater. There are drops of rain in her hair and I feel like the biggest goddamn pussy as I admire the way they reflect the light from the porch lamp. She's holding a casserole dish covered in tinfoil. I salivate. I break from my daze and invite her in.

"Come on in, Bella. Thanks for bringing dinner. It's been a while since I've had a home-cooked meal."

"Well, it was the least I could do," she says, which alludes to I don't know what. Is she hinting that she's about to drop a bomb on me, and she's thanking me in advance for catching her when she falls? Or is she trying to repay me for the kiss?

Either way, it's a little weird.

She steps inside my front door and hovers awkwardly in the foyer. I realize that she probably feels a bit uncomfortable given that the last time she was here, she was trying to sneak out unnoticed. There's a heavy tension hanging between us and I know it has a lot to do with the kiss we shared just hours ago. She's thinking about it, I'm thinking about it, and we both don't know what to say.

So I ignore it. "Do we need to microwave that or something?" I ask, and nod at the casserole dish in an attempt to cut the awkwardness.

"Nope, still warm." She smiles. I think she looks a little proud.

"Great. I'll grab some plates." I walk over to the kitchen and she follows. She stands next to one of the stools at the counter, but doesn't sit. She just stands there and waits. I realize that she's waiting for permission. I feel a pang of remorse or sadness at the thought that she probably fears doing anything without being told she's allowed to first. I shudder to think what her mother's boyfriend might have done to her if she had sat down to dinner without asking.

"Feel free to grab a seat," I reassure her.

She looks up at me as if to ask, _are you sure?_

I nod back and almost say, _go on… _I stop myself, though. I don't want to seem bossy. I'm not going to be another domineering male figure in her life. She slowly pulls the stool out to sit and places the dish on the counter top.

She folds her lands in her lap and hangs her head. Her behavior is so strange, so saddening. I figure I might as well get to the heart of it.

"What's wrong?" I ask, and grab a serving spoon to heap a pile of food on each of our plates. It looks delicious. "You have some bad news?"

"It's nothing," she waves me off. "I hope you eat meat. There's beef in there." I can tell she's trying to avert my attention, but I refuse to fall for it. She came over to _talk,_ didn't she?

My dick twitches in my pants. That thing has a brain of its own; he seems to think that Bella came over to do a bit more than talking. I force myself to focus on the task at hand. If she really did get some rough news as her text indicated, I want to be here for her.

"Yes, I eat meat. But, Bella, what's really going on? Why did you want someone to talk to?"

"It's silly, really. It's totally not a big deal. It's just that my dad forgot my birthday," she smirks, "for eighteen years."

I choke on my bite of hot pasta.

"Can you rephrase?"

"I turned eighteen in September. Neither he nor I had any idea." She pauses and slides her plate towards her. "I thought my eighteenth birthday was next week."

"I still need more information..."

"My mom really hates spending money. Like, really hates it. She told me that she and I had the same birth date, January 29th." She takes a bite of food and covers her mouth as she speaks. "I think it's because she didn't want to throw me my own birthday parties when I was a kid. And then, I guess, she kind of forgot. She even had my dad fooled."

"Wow," I say.

"Yeah. It's so stupid. I can't believe I didn't even know when my own fucking birthday was." She laughs bitterly. "Excuse my language."

"Don't worry about it," I say, and raise my eyebrows at her. I shake my head. This is a lot to process.

But somewhere, about two feet south of my confused brain, someone's rejoicing that Bella's legal. I want to junk punch myself.

"Anyway, that's it. That's my life," she laughs again humorlessly. I recognize this defense mechanism. I don't want to push her too hard because obviously this is difficult for her and she must be just utterly mindfucked at the moment, but I also want to show her that I take her troubles seriously.

"Well, if you want to talk… you know where I live," I try to say nonchalantly. I blow on a forkful of lasagna. "And happy birthday, Bella."

"Thanks," she whispers.

"Hold on one second. I think I have a candle around here."

"That won't be necessary," she protests.

"Oh, yes it is," I fight back. I dig in the cabinet above the sink until I find a tea candle or whatever, left over from Christmas dinner. I light it with a match and stick it in the center of the lasagna. "Make a wish, Bella."

She closes her eyes and clutches her hands in front of her chest. She thinks for a long time and I swear I see her bottom lip quiver before she opens her eyes and blows out the flame.

"What did you wish for?" I ask, curious as to what made her look so sad.

"You know I can't tell you. I want it to come true."

"Fair enough. But," I press, "what would have been your next wish if you hadn't made that one?" She grimaces. "I'll tell you one of mine…" I goad.

"Okay, I think… I guess that I would have wished for my dad to find someone new, someone worth believing in love for. I think that Renee jaded us both on the subject."

"I see. I think my dad kind of ruined it for me, to tell you the truth."

"How so?"

"I just don't think he treats my mom very well, that's all." I shrug. She gives me a look as if to say, _oh, come on! _"He was seeing someone on the side. I think he still is."

"Really instills a faith in the goodness of people, huh?" she cracks.

"I think people are still generally good, anyway."

"You sound like Anne Frank."

"Really?" I quirk an eyebrow at her. _Did my girl just get all smarty-pants on me? Did I just refer to her as _my girl?

"Yeah. Uhm, doesn't she say, 'In spite of everything, I still think people are really good at heart.' I mean, after everything she went through, she didn't completely lose faith in humanity."

"But you have?"

"No. No, not really. I…" she looks away from me and takes a shallow breath. "I went through some stuff with my mom, but that doesn't make me think that all people are like that. It changed me, sure, and yeah, it is sometimes hard to trust my father, but I know he means well and he tries really hard with me."

"That's good," I mumble, kind of lost for words. I'm a little stunned by Bella, to tell the truth. I'm still not exactly sure what her full story is, but I know that if she's going to tell me, it has to be on her terms. "Yeah, that's good." I repeat. "I think all families have their troubles, perhaps some worse than others. But seeing my dad behave the way he did, especially when I was young, was very confusing." I pause and try to gather my thoughts. "I shouldn't be telling you this." I shake my head. This is kind of inappropriate information to be sharing with my student.

"I guess you're right," she says, and starts to pick at the hem of her sweater. "I should go. This has been… great," she says bitterly.

"Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. Please stay. Let's watch a movie or something. You don't have to go."

I watch as she stifles a devious smile. She thinks I don't notice, but seeing her go from feeling rejected to cracking a little grin in my kitchen makes me smile a little bit myself.

"Alright. I can stay for a while. My dad usually doesn't get back until around seven-thirty or eight in the morning, so he won't even know I've been gone if I…" She doesn't finish her sentence. I can understand why. So I change the subject.

"Have you ever seen Hamlet 2000? The one with Ethan Hawke and Julia Stiles? I can't decide if I love it or hate it. Maybe you can help me make up my mind?"

"Good idea." She hops down from the stool, but just stands there again and waits.

"Make yourself at home, Bella. You can feel comfortable here."

"'Kay, thanks," she says, and kicks off her Chucks next to the stool. She makes her way over to the couch and snuggles into it while I hunt for the DVD in my collection. I put it in the player and join her.

It's awkward.

I sit a couch cushion's length away from her. "Cold?" I ask, and hand her a blanket.

"Thanks," she whispers just as the film starts.

"Sure thing."

"We should read that play in class. _Sure Thing_ by David Ives. It's so funny; I love it," she giggles.

"We'll get to that…" I allude.

"Sure we will," she quips back vaguely.

I'm pretty sure neither of us knows what we're talking about, but this silly flirting has me ready to pitch a tent under my own blanket. She's so adorable. I tear my eyes away from her flushing, pink cheeks and look at the screen.

Hamlet is bitching out his mother in one of my favorite speeches ever penned by Shakespeare. I love the "seems vs. is" theme in the play.

"Seems, madam! Nay it is; I know not seems," Bella quotes along.

_God, I love her._

_Fuck, did I say that out loud? _I glance over at her and she's still happily quoting along. _So fucking cute._

I join her in her quote-a-thon and we bitterly grumble at the TV together in Hamlet's low monotone. I stumble on "customary suits of solemn black," and she hits me in the chest with the back of her hand and calls me a nerd.

I instinctively grab her hand and hold it in mine.

Our eyes lock.

I can't let her go. I stroke the palm of her hand with my thumb and wait for her to yank it away, but she doesn't. She just keeps looking at me.

I pull her body into mine and wrap my arm around her shoulder. I want so badly to grab her face and kiss the living hell out of her, but I have to take small steps with her. I know this. She's been damaged and I don't want to scare her away.

That's my greatest fear now. To lose her because I was too stupid to take it slow.

She nuzzles into my neck, much like she did this afternoon.

"Thank you, Edward," she breathes, hardly above a whisper. I don't know what she's thanking me for, but I hold her tighter to me.

"You're welcome," I say, and kiss her on top of the head without thinking. _So much for taking it slow, _I berate myself. I bite my lips to force myself to remain quiet and refrain from kissing her again.

"Mmmm," she hums, and pushes her face deeper into my neck. I close my eyes and pretend this isn't happening, but when I feel her warm, wet mouth on my neck, I lose all control.

I lift her chin and look into her eyes. They are so open and inviting and no part of them is telling me _no_ or _stop. _So I kiss her.

I kiss the living hell out of her.

Her hands fly to my hair and she pulls me to her. She tastes like lasagna and the best Italian red sauce I've ever tasted. She hums into my mouth. I pull her onto my lap just like I did this afternoon in my office, but this time I grip her thighs and spread her legs open so that she straddles me. She pushes her body up against mine and I feel her breasts press against my chest. I practically explode right there.

My hands explore her entire body. I start by stroking her hair away from her face and running my hands down her back. I palm her tight little ass and she pushes away from me. She's panting.

"I'm sorry. I know. I'll stop," I say between breaths. _Fuck, I'm scaring her away right now. Jesus fuck, I hate myself._ "I'm sorry, Bella. Just tell me if it's too much and I'll stop. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she breathes, and pulls her body off of mine. "It's just a lot."

"I get it. Let's just watch the movie. I don't want you to feel like you –"

"Don't worry. I don't," she says, and cuts me off.

She snuggles into my side again and sighs. There are so many things I want to say to her in this moment, but I bite my tongue because I worry I'll make things worse.

We continue watching the movie, but before long I notice that Bella's breathing has grown deep and heavy. She's asleep.

I remember that she hates sleeping on couches, so I scoop her up and carry her upstairs. In the back of my mind, I know I should go back downstairs and sleep on the couch by myself, but I can't bear to leave her. _What if she dies in her sleep? I could never forgive myself._

I roll my eyes at my own stupid logic and lay Bella down on the bed. I have to go to the hallway closet to get a blanket that's not covered in my cum. When I pull my arms out from underneath Bella, she starts squirming and whimpering.

"Edward, no. Please don't go," she whispers. I snap my head back around in her direction.

"It's okay, baby. I'll be right back," I whisper reassuringly. But then I feel like a total pussified douche, because I just called Bella "baby" while she was sleeping. There are just too many layers of idiot here for me to even cover.

I grab the blanket quickly and run back to her as quick as I can. _Maybe she's not breathing_, I think.

_I'm an asshole._

I pull the blanket over both of us and push aside the guilt I feel as I cuddle up to her and hold her from behind.


	19. Hold My Tongue

**Author's Note: The characters and settings of Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. The original content, ideas, and plot lines of this story belong to the author. The events in this story are fictional and any similarities to actual persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Additionally, this story contains subject matter not suitable for minors. Underage drinking, drug use, consensual sex, strong language, abuse, and other adult content may be present in this story. Again, all sex in this story is consensual. If you are under 18 and/or uncomfortable with any of these subjects, please be advised that this story may not be for you.**

Leading Lady

Chapter 19

EDWARD.

It's red under my eyelids, but it's a peaceful, warm red. Like the inside of a womb. My eyes open and I realize that the room is filled with light.

A jolt runs through me. My body tenses and I sit up abruptly in bed.

"Oh, shit. Bella, its morning," I whisper, though I don't really want to wake her. She looks so sweet, smiling in her sleep, but I know she needs to get up now or she'll feel panicked. I place my hand on her shoulder and shake her very gently. Her eyes flutter open and her soft, pink mouth forms the O of a yawn.

"What?" she moans and snuggles deeper into me.

"Bella, sweetheart. You fell asleep. It's almost 6 o'clock in the morning. It's Tuesday."

"Holy fuck," she bursts, and wriggles away from me. "I'm still… _here?" _Her eyes scan the room, and it's evident that she's trying to put the pieces together. "I have to go. Fuck, my dad will be home soon. I'm sorry I... invaded your space," she says, and her eyes briefly dart to my morning wood.

I pull a pillow over my lap. "Don't worry about it. Really. It was nice having you over. It gets so quiet in here at night."

"Yeah, me too. It gets quiet at my dad's house, too. He's always away. I never see him." She frowns, momentarily distracted, but then her eyes settle on the alarm clock next to my bed. "Anyway, bye."

She rolls over to the edge of the bed and puts her feet on the floor. I hate looking at the back of her head… watching her leave me.

I grab her wrist and pull her back. And I kiss her.

She kisses me back, only parting her lips slightly before she pulls away. "I have morning breath," she whispers as she covers her mouth.

"I don't care. Stay," I narrow my eyes hungrily at her. I know I just woke her up to essentially ask her to leave, but now I'm considering calling in sick for both of us and laying in bed with her all day.

I've never been one of those touchy-feely guys who wants to cuddle after sex, so I feel a bit dumb wanting to snuggle someone without having even slept with them. I mean, yes, we slept together, but it's not like we _fucked._

I cringe a little. I don't want to _fuck_ Bella. And I know that if we ever do get together, it won't be like that. I want to make sure she knows how special and brilliant she is, and that means I'll be careful and gentle and reverent.

"What's wrong?" she asks, and leans into me.

"Hm?" I say, and come back to the moment. "Nothing." I can't help but notice that there's a tone of defensiveness to my voice.

"I can tell you're thinking about something, Mr. Cullen," she jokes deviously. I can tell she's trying to be funny but I hate the sound of my formal name coming from her mouth. It only serves as a painful reminder that I'm not supposed to be anywhere near her.

"Please don't call me that, Bella. Don't even call me that at school. Call me Edward. Just Edward. And if it makes you feel better, you can call me Mr. Edward when we're on campus."

"Jesus, Edward," she sneers.

"What did I say?"

"You can't have it both ways. You just can't. Yesterday you addressed me as Miss Swan, am I right? You want me to behave professionally at school, but you also want me to stay here in bed with you! You have to pick one."

"Bella, you know I can't do that," I mutter, shamed. "I'm your teacher. That'll always come first. We shouldn't be doing this, because in the eyes of others… it's wrong." She's averted her eyes and I can tell that she's hurting. "You know I don't think this is wrong. Because Bella… I, I care about you. Please don't be sad." I'm a total putz. I don't know what to say. "I don't want to stop… doing this," I gesture between us both, unsure of what to call what exactly it is that we're doing. Perhaps it's too soon to put a label on it – it's been less than 24 hours since I first kissed her in my office. But something tells me there are going to be more kisses… that it wasn't a one-time thing. "I don't want to stop. But I could lose my job if people find out about this. I'm sorry if that's hard for you, but it's true. So, please, don't ask me to chose, because you know I don't have a choice."

"No, you're right. I get it." She nods her head and sighs. "I'm leaving now," she says matter-of-factly.

"I'll drive you to school!" I whisper-shout after her. She stops and turns around to face me.

She rolls her eyes dramatically at me. "Don't be stupid, Edward."

_Adorable._

I hear the front door close downstairs and I flop back on my bed. I take a deep breath and try to process all that's happened in the last few hours.

I kissed Bella. She came over. She fed me her cooking. She really opened up to me about her life, and I opened up right back.

She slept over. And I held her all night.

I can't make sense of it yet, and I don't really have time for it this morning. I get myself out of bed and shower and dress methodically. I try not to think about what school will be like today.

I know that every time I look at Bella, I'm going to remember how sweet her hair smelled, how soft it felt around me, how much I want to be close to her.

I know it'll be hard, but, as I told her only a few moments ago, I have no choice. I want Bella and I want my job. I have to deal with that now.

When I go outside to get into my car, I notice that her father's cruiser is back and that Bella's truck is still in the driveway. I hope they're not chatting inside, because I'm pretty sure that Bella can't lie for shit.

I throw my bag into the passenger seat and gun the engine. _Off to pretend that I'm not in love with Bella Swan._


	20. More Strong Than Traitors' Arms

**Author's Note: The characters and settings of Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. The original content, ideas, and plot lines of this story belong to the author. The events in this story are fictional and any similarities to actual persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Additionally, this story contains subject matter not suitable for minors. Underage drinking, drug use, consensual sex, strong language, abuse, and other adult content may be present in this story. Again, all sex in this story is consensual. If you are under 18 and/or uncomfortable with any of these subjects, please be advised that this story may not be for you.**

Chapter 20 - More Strong Than Traitors' Arms

The second I step out of the shower, I can hear Charlie moving around downstairs. Fucking fuck, could he have seen me come in this morning? When did he get home? I'm about to get my head chopped off, aren't I? And Edward's probably next. Fack.

I'm hoping he's back early or I'm running a bit late. Maybe both. Just as long as he didn't witness me scamper across the street at sunrise.

"Good morning, Bella!" he shouts from down below. He sounds... normal enough. Not angry. But maybe he's holding it in until he sees me face to face.

"Hi dad! I'll be down in a minute!" I was kind of hoping I could avoid seeing him this morning. Or perhaps ever again. Don't get me wrong, I love Charlie, but I know I'm the worst liar in the world and he'll be able to see right through me. I can't lie to a police officer.

I'm so completely fucked if and when he finds out about this.

I don't even know what this is! Edward and I… playing house? It was just a one-night thing. I won't be going back there to eat dinner, watch movies and cuddle with him. I should be happy with the little affection he gave and move on before he does. This can't go any further.

But even as I'm getting dressed, as I'm trying to forget him, I'm scheming up ways to see him again. Alone.

I remember that we didn't end up discussing _Crime and Punishment_. Nor did he mention anything about my poem. Even though I'm still embarrassed that I even gave him my writing to begin with, I'm pretty sure it's my best excuse to get into his office again.

And then I remember his words. _Lovely, lovely prose, Bella._

I run down the stairs and pretend that I'm late for school in order to avoid Charlie. I grab a granola bar as always and yell a "bye, dad!" over my shoulder as I head for my truck.

Family implosion successfully avoided.

I try not to think about Edward's hands wrapped around my waist, warmth against my back, kisses on my neck, but I can't escape him. He's always in my thoughts.

I drive in a daze, thinking only about words. I'm piecing them together, stringing phrases along, until - when I arrive at school - I find a fully composed poem knocking around in my head.

I park in my usual spot and grab a random page of paper out of my backpack. I quickly pen the verse and hop out of my car. I can see Edward across the lot. He's getting out of his car too, but I pretend to ignore him. I still don't know where I stand. I know we have to keep anything that happens off of campus a secret, but can I be friendly with him at school? Would it let on too much if I waved at him from thirty yards away?

In the end, it doesn't matter. I don't have to decide whether to wave at him or not; he doesn't see me. He's reading something as he walks to class.

I follow behind him, keep my distance at first, but as I draw closer I realize that he isn't aware of my presence at all. This wounds my ego a little bit at first that he can't sense me coming, but he's so engrossed in what he's reading, so I do my best not to be offended. It has nothing to do with me.

I keep pace with him, match him step for step as he approaches the village. Still reading. He's obviously on autopilot, mindlessly following the same path he's taken from his car to his classroom every day since the beginning of the semester. I watch in amazement as he effortlessly rounds the corner to the village and stalks along the row of shrubs that line the walkway. He's not looking where he's going and he starts veering off to the right. He runs into one of the hedges. I freeze.

Oh my god. Did anyone else just see Mr. Edward run into a bush? I can hardly contain my laughter, but when he pauses and earnestly apologizes to the plant before carrying on, I double over in a fit of giggles. That was just too funny. Who does that?

Between pants of laughter, I stop to wonder what could be so utterly distracting.

I stand outside of his classroom and wait for Angela. Apparently I was the only witness to that total goof. And I'm too scared to be alone with him just yet. I don't want him to carelessly brush me aside like last night didn't happen, just as much as I don't want him to see the huge smirk on my face that gives away that I've just followed him closely enough to see him apologize to an inanimate object.

When I see Ang approaching, I wipe the tears from my face.

She runs up to me, a concerned "v" knitted between her brows. "Oh no. What's wrong, Bella? Did he give out the grades for the pop quiz? If you did bad, I definitely did bad!"

"What? No. No. You won't even believe what I just saw." I glance into the classroom to see if Mr. (hah) Edward can even hear me. I'm sure he can't.

I stifle a giggle and press on. "I was walking behind Mr. Edward on the way here, and oh god," I heave, "he completely just ran into that bush over there. Like, full on. It was hilarious."

Angela grabs me by the arm just above the elbow and leans into me. She's giggling now too. "No. Stop it," she snorts.

"Wait. It gets better. He stopped dead in his tracks and said sorry to it! He apologized to a fucking bush because he ran into it! Amazing." I realize that this is really only funny because it's Mr. Edward who did it. Perfect, smart, sexy, put-together Mr. Edward running into shit.

Ang leans her forehead against my shoulder as she laughs. I'm so glad I have someone to tell this to. It was too ridiculous to hold in. I'm also glad that Ang finds it as funny as I do. My amusement is normal. Or maybe we're both mutually abnormal. In either case, at least it won't seem off that I followed so closely behind Edward and that I'm extra amused by his blunder.

We kind of hold each other loosely as we laugh at Mr. Edward's expense. I'd feel bad if it wasn't so damned ridiculous.

The bell finally rings and we have to collect ourselves. We wipe our smiles off our faces and go inside the classroom. Mr. Edward is at the whiteboard copying the poetry presentation sign-up list. His pen squeaks when I pass by, but he keeps writing like he has no idea I'm near him.

When I go to my desk, there's a sticky note on it.

_And just what do you think is so funny?_

Shit, I've been caught. I peel it off and stuff it in my jeans pocket.

"Okay, guys. Grab a copy of _Fine Frenzy _and start working on your presentations. This is the order in which we'll present next week. We also have a practice AP test essay on Friday, so, uh... Just prepare yourself for that exciting endeavor. Okay."

He walks to his desk and slumps in his chair. Looks like hands-off teaching today.

I shuffle over to the book cart with the rest of the class and pick out a book. I glance over at Edward on my way back to my desk. He's bent over a piece of paper, scratching on it with his signature green pen. A lock of hair flops into his face and he pushes it back. He runs his long fingers through the strands and grips them at the roots. Frustrated?

I rip my eyes away from him and focus on the assignment. I pull out my notebook and place it neatly on my desk. I lay my favorite pen down next to it. I have the feeling that this will be a very long hour.

I open the book and start to browse. I read for twenty minutes and mark each poem

I like with a pink sticky note. At 8:24, Edward gets up from his desk and starts to pace around the room. He answers questions and chats with students. I keep my eyes on my book. _Act like he's just your teacher_, I remind myself. I open my notebook to take a few notes to distract myself, and when I flip to a fresh page, there it is. A little yellow sticky.

_Going to answer my question? Perhaps we can discuss your case of the giggles during 6__th__?_ I blush and slam my notebook shut. Sneaky bastard. How did he even get that in there?

I take my ballpoint pen and scribe "yes," upside-down on the palm of my hand. When he walks by I casually lay my hand out, palm up so he can see it. He just huffs as he passes me and goes back to his chair.

I ignore him for the rest of the period, and focus instead on a mildly raunchy poem by e.e. cummings. I decide that this will be the poem I'll present. I read it over and over, copy it into my notebook, and start to pick it apart.

I'm in the middle of deciphering the meaning of "feel" when the bell rings. Apparently the rest of the class was just itching to get out of here because, once again, I'm left alone. The only student left in the classroom. With Mr. Edward. It's starting to become a habit.

"Pick a good one?" he asks, as he leans over my desk. I can smell his Altoid breath, feel his heat.

"Yeah, Uh, I think so. It's 'may I feel' by e.e. cummings."

"One of my favorites." He smirks.

"Cool," I mumble, and stuff my things in my bag.

I can't go to music theory. I just can't. I can't sit next to Angela and sing counterparts while anticipating the complication that's about to be next period.

Jacob.

Edward.

I have no idea.

I sit in my truck for an hour and mostly just listen to the rain as I scratch my pen against a scrap of paper. I want to type up my poems before my meeting with Mr. Edward.

I dash across campus and try not to get rained on as I make my way to the lab.

I grab a seat in the corner and pull my handwritten drafts from my bag. I crash my hands onto the keyboard furiously typing, make edits as I go.

The period is more than half over by the time I'm done. I print both documents and grab them on my way to the quad. It brunch and I go to meet Angela. We stand under the overhang, willing the rain to abate.

I eat my stupid granola bar and wish it were leftover lasagna.

When the bell rings to signal my coming demise - otherwise known as Drama Lit - I realize that I've successfully avoided actually thinking about what I'm going to do.

It's Wednesday, and I have to perform my scene with Jacob on Friday. And I'm pretty sure I asked him out on a date earlier this week.

He hurt me, but I don't want to hurt him back. Well, maybe a little.

I just don't know how to face both him and Edward at the same time.

I have to pretend to like one guy while I pretend I'm not in love with another.

It's messed up.

Especially given the fact that my brain keeps saying "love" without my permission.

I pull my coat over my head and dash across the lot towards the Little Theatre. Rosalie is standing outside the classroom with her arms crossed in front of her. Her breasts are mashed together in an odd, but probably still appealing way. Emmett would like it.

"Hi," I grumble. I'm not in the mood for Rose this morning.

She doesn't greet me. At least not in the way a normal friend would. Rather, she spits, "You, me, Planned Parenthood. After school. It's a date, bitch."

I quirk an eyebrow at her. This isn't the first time she's forced me to give my name at the clinic for the morning-after pill. I try not to roll my eyes. I'm pretty sure that after the seventh use, you're pretty much infertile. Whatever.

"It's not for me, Bella." She draws out the 'a' at the end. "It's for you, super-slut."

"Excuse me?" I choke. I'm not the one who blew her boyfriend in the girl's bathroom two days ago.

"You don't want to get knocked up with little Indian babies, do you?" And she's racist! Score two for Rose!

"No, you're right. I wouldn't want that," I reply dryly.

"Fine," she says, and turns on her heel. I don't know what her problem is, but I do my best to ignore it and just walk into the theatre. I have bigger fish to fry.

"Word battle!" Mr. Edward shouts once were all seated, and does that awful karate chop dance again. I think we all giggle a bit. "Name goddess!" He coughs. "That means you, Bella," he says with his hand aside his mouth in a mock-whisper. He even flutters his fingers a bit in false bravado. It's distracting. "Draw a name!"

"Okay..." I reply slowly, and reach for my stack of name cards. I shuffle them proudly and match Edward's enthusiasm and theatricality.

I reach in the middle of the pile and… I draw my own name.

Fuck.

"Up you go, miss," he says in a fake British accent. I take off my coat and pretend to limber up. I walk up the ramp to the stage and look out on the rest of the class. I block the stage lights with my hand so that I can see the other students. Rose and Emmett are making out, thinking no one can see them. But I fucking can. And Jake isn't even looking at me. He seems to be texting or playing on a Game Boy or something. Ew.

I await the next step.

"Word goddess!" Edward bellows, and brandishes his notes for effect. "Miss Mallory, please draw a vocal word."

"Leer," she says meekly.

"Now, Bella, you have a choice. Act out this word alone or ask for another. But should you fail to correctly act out any number of words, you owe the class cookies."

"Fine," I say, and square my shoulders, "please, sir, may I have another?" I don't know where that came from. It reeks of sexuality, but somehow it seems fitting, so I fight off my blush and run with it.

"Putative" Lauren slurs, like it's a dirty word.

Fuck, I don't know that one. Going to have to fake it, I guess.

"Can I have a scene partner?" I ask.

"By all means," Mr. Edward sweeps his hand grandly out over the crowd.

"Ang?" I request. She rolls her eyes and makes her way on stage. It's getting hot under the stage lights, or maybe it's just the fact that I'm about to make a total fool out of myself in front of Edward and the world. I have no choice but to peel off my sweater. I toss it, rumpled, onto an empty seat in the front row.

I swear I hear Mr. Edward ask, "What else are you going to take off?" Déjà fucking vu.

"Okay," I whisper. "Angela, just work with me here. Improv, yeah?"

"Cool," she replies.

"Hey, sexy lady," I groan at Angela in a fake baritone, and try to keep a straight face.

"Who, me?" She fans her face like a Southern belle.

"Yes you, darling. Can't you see me casting wayward and lascivious glances at you?"

"Very good, that's one," I hear Edward say slowly from the first row.

I kind of freeze. I need my brain to come up with the definition of putative. I picture the word scrawled in my notebook, but I can't even remember if it's a verb, noun, or adjective. I suck.

I look at Angela and hope for some help, but she just shrugs. She looks as helpless as I feel.

"Well, Uh, lovely lady... Care to join me at the ball this weekend?" I say something just to buy some time, and I continue to rack my brain for any scrap of definition I can come up with.

"But of course, Fred!" Angela goes along with my scene as I asked her to.

"Should be really fun," I mumble. I'm slipping out of character now. I regret asking for another word. I could be off the stage by now. Stupid showoff in me!

I look out on the audience and hope for a miracle. Rose is yawning, the bitch.

"I think so," Ang says, almost questioningly. She looks at me as if to ask, _are we done yet?_

I fucking wish.

"We could dance there..."

"Alright, ladies. Nice try," Edward chuckles. "You can sit down now."

I slump off the stage, totally shamed.

"Now, I said that this was a word battle, so who's next? Bella, care to draw another name?" he asks.

Not really. "Embry," I grumble, and reach up to my face. It's wet. I can't believe I'm crying. This is awful.

Embry gets up there and correctly acts out the meaning of putative and of copacetic.

I slump into my seat.

"Awesome word battle, guys! Now please break off into scene partners. The first groups perform on Friday!"

I don't get it. Guess he had a coffee during brunch. So chipper right now.

"Don't forget! Lunch meeting today to discuss the play. Be there or fail my class." He winks. "Just kidding. Now hop to it."

I meet Jacob in the shop as always and we run through the scene over and over. I can hear his phone buzzing in his pants, and I can tell he wants to attend to the onslaught of text messages he's getting. He won't, though, because he's too polite for that.

It's annoying.

"Mr. Edward! I heard you apologized to a plant this morning! Oh my god! That is just so cute!"

I'm packing up my things and shoving my script back into my bag when I hear Jessica according Edward. _Fuck, has word gotten around already?_ If word travels this fast when we're taking about plants, how fast would it travel if we were talking about bush? Mine to be exact. Near Edward.

I push the thought aside because it makes very little sense and also because it's unhealthy to picture _that _happening anywhere while I'm on school campus.

I itch all the way through choir to get back to the theatre to hear about the play. For once, I'm one of the first people to be packed and ready to go when the bell rings.

Though I'm not in the mood for it, I link arms with Rosalie and we walk over to the theatre together. She makes me sit in the front row with her, like total suck-up blowhards.

Edward takes his place on stage next to Ms. Meyer. She blinks when he sits and scoots her folding chair slightly away from him. _Yeah, girl, back up off my man,_ I smirk to myself.

When the room is filled with students, Edward begins.

"Hey, everyone, thanks so much for coming to the meeting. I'm really looking forward to working on this show with Ms. Meyer and all of you. I hope that you will all come out to audition in two weeks. So," he clears his throat, "I'm sure you're wondering what you, in fact, are auditioning for."

He pauses for dramatic effect.

"The spring musical will be… _A Midsummer Night's Dream_." A sharp general intake of air is heard around the room. And with Angela and Rosalie squeezing each of my arms, I think I may lose the function of my fingers.

"Now, I know what you're thinking," he continues. "_Midsummer_ isn't a musical. Well, for us, it is. Ms. Meyer has written some lovely tunes to go with the Bard's verse and I'm very excited to assist her in bringing it to life. We're looking for actors for every kind of part, from ensemble to leads, from fairies to mortals, and everything in between. So please, come out and show us what you've got. You'll need to prepare two minutes of a song of your choice to perform, as well as memorize a monologue from the play. I've put together a list of speeches to choose from. You can get them by the door on your way out."

Everyone lurches towards the exit.

"Okay, eager Annies, you're free to go. I hope to see all of your beautiful faces back at auditions in two weeks. Have a good rest of your lunch hour."

I nab a short list by the door as Rose shuffles me out. I know the part I want to play, but also consider that it's big and I'm, well, small in every way. I read over the monologue as I walk with Rosalie and Emmett towards the cafeteria.

We sit at the table for the last 15 minutes of lunch, but I can't stop glancing between Edward's office and the monologue. I'm nervous about both.

The trill of the warning bell snaps me out of my nerves.

"Try not to get any jizz in your eye while you're blowing Edward," Emmett teases, obviously aware of where I'm headed next.

"I'll keep that in mind, Em, thanks," I say, and scoot off to his office.

I stumble out of Edward's office, amazed, confused, excited, and scared. I move mindlessly towards my truck. I'm going to cut my second class of the day. I can't tolerate Jacob or psychology at the moment. I might pop if I'm forced to sit in a classroom right now.

I sit in my truck for an hour and try to process everything. But I can't. I just stare.

Until Rose raps on my window.

"Let me in! It's wet out here." I open the door for her. "But not as wet as your vagina."

I'm starting to lose it with this girl. Fucking annoying. I start the car and she points us in the direction of Planned Parenthood. I wish my leather seat would swallow me up.

"Tell her you want to be on the pill. Go."

"But I don't want to be on the pill."

"We've been over this. Now do it."

Fucking Rosalie. I get up out of my sticky blue vinyl chair and march up to the window.

"I want to be on the pill," I stutter. The girl smacks her gum at me, but slides the paperwork through the slot without saying anything.

I take it back to my seat and try to fill it out with Rosalie looking over my shoulder.

Pet peeve times a million.

I don't know what to write for certain sections. _Sexually active?_ Why isn't there a box I can check for _I hope so?_

_Number of partners?_ None. But Rose can't know this. She thinks I'm a superslut.

I'm not, like, some virginal puritan... I mean, I am a virgin. But that doesn't mean I haven't done... stuff.

Back in Phoenix, I hooked up, or whatever, with a guy named Paul at a party. We got really drunk and made out and then I ended up giving him a hand job behind the house. I guess he didn't actually finish because the next day everyone was calling me a cock tease. After that I felt I had to prove, to myself at least, that I had some... skill, so to speak. So I pursued this guy I went to theatre camp with who lived in Flagstaff. Demetri was visiting colleges with his sister, so it seemed like the perfect opportunity to test myself out. No one from my school had to know.

Too bad he'd grown up with basically the entire water polo team. So when I chickened out after we made out for an hour, nearly every male at my high school found out and thought I was the blue balls queen.

Just another reason why I was glad to leave Phoenix. But I digress.

I fill out the form as best as I can without giving away the true status of my maidenhead to Rosalie, and stuff the form back through the Plexiglass slot before I can think about it further.

I wait for a minute and the girl comes back with three months worth of purple packaged pills. She asks me if I know how they work, and Rosalie informs her that I do before I can even reply.

"See? Painless. Now let's get out of here, I need to hit up Good Vibes on the way back. I need a new clitoral stimulator. Emmett and I broke my old one this weekend."

"Holy overshare, Rose!"

"What? It's true," she shrugs.

"I thought you wanted me to keep my nose out of your sex life."

"I did, until I found out what a hoe bag you are! Now we can share stories. Is Jake rough?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Whatever, slut, I'll get it out of you just like Jake did."

What is it with the name calling today?

"Gimme your phone," she demands, and thrusts her hand in my direction. What? No. Is she going to read my texts? She could find out about Edward and it would defeat the whole point of this birth control for sex with Jake charade.

"Don't look so scared, you freak. I'm not going read your sexts. I'm going to set an alarm. 8 pm every night. Take your pill; we can do it at the same time. Twinzies!"

Ugh, the last person I wan to be twinzies with is Rosalie Hale. Waah.

After an exhaustive inventory of every vibrator, clitoral or not, carried by Good Vibes, Rosalie selects a pink sparkly one and get me one to match. Her treat.

_Barf._

She finally releases me. When I get home, there is a note from my dad on the counter, telling me that he's gone up to Mason County for the night. It doesn't say why, but he's left me twenty dollars for dinner.

I pocket the cash and put some water on to boil. Pasta will be fine. I start a batch of cookies for tomorrow. I have to pay up for that word battle. Fuck.

I take my dinner up to my room and eat it while I check my email. I feel awkward about how I left things with Edward this afternoon. I feel bad for making him think that I would ever think less of him because of his so-called blunder this morning. I type out an apology to him and hit send. I'm hoping that he'll respond quickly because I need the comfort of his words. The house is eerily quiet tonight, even more so than others, and I feel so lonely.

I don't like the idea of my dad having to go up to another county to help out. It most likely means a gruesome crime that involves multiple jurisdictions. I hate the thought of people being so awful to each other and the fact that my dad has to deal with it. I hate to think of what he has to go through at his job, and it pains me to think that horrible images might haunt him when he's off-duty.

Before I can get too lost in my fear and loneliness, however, my inbox pings.

It's Edward.

From: Edward Cullen

Subject: Haiku

Date: January 30, 2007 6:47PM

To: Isabella Swan

Dear Smella,

I skimmed over the changes you made to your poems, and they look good; I'll look at them more closely.

I'm actually writing to say: great job on the quiz! I'm pleased to see that you're doing the reading, even if it's not very enjoyable for you.

Keep your roll (as in sequence of goodness, not a bread product) going.

EC

Hrm, pretty pointless email. Nothing he couldn't have said in person today. Maybe he just felt like saying hi. I like that.

I write back and fish for an invite to come over, just for a little bit. I don't care if he'll even touch me again, though I want him to. It's just that being alone at night, night after fucking night, is really starting to wear on me. Perhaps I'll ask Charlie to take off more than just weekends from now on.

Edward,

Thanks for taking a look. I'm excited to see what you think of them. Been feeling extra creative lately; I don't know where it's come from!

Extra quiet over here tonight. I have no rolls to keep over here, but I do have plenty of cookies. Care to taste test?

-B

He writes back. An invite.

B,

Did I hear you say 'cookie?' Bring them over! Tardiness will not be tolerated.

EC

I finish up my psych homework and type up my notes from English class quickly and change my clothing. All of it. Even my undies.

I look both ways before scampering across the street. It's well after twilight, and I doubt anyone will be able to see me in the dark, but I can't be too careful, especially given that Mrs. Cope lives next to Edward.

He opens the door and his hair is wet. I can't tell if it's sweat or water from the shower, but judging by the way he's rubbing a towel against his head, I think that he must have just gotten out of the shower. Plus, he looks freshly shaven. Great, now I'm picturing him naked. Again.

"What? No food this time?" he grumbles half-sarcastically.

"Ah ah ah," I say, before reaching into my bag and producing a bag of cookies. "Sorry, they're just the ugly ones. I wanted to present the pretty ones in class tomorrow. But you can taste test them. They're chocolate chip shortbread. Sorry I missed that word today," I ramble.

He chuckles and ushers me in, just like last night. "Don't worry about it. The first few times I encountered that word I had to look it up myself."

His words are oddly unreassuring but I can see he's trying to make me feel better. I nod in acceptance.

"Have a seat on the couch," he says. I try not to read too much into it.

"I don't have any milk, but I do have beer. I know I shouldn't offer that to a student, but I think that I've pretty much crossed every student-teacher boundary with you already..." he trails off.

"Cool, okay. Thanks," is all I can muster. He brings over two Heinekens and an empty plate to put the cookies on.

I sip my beer tentatively. I don't really like the flavor, but I don't want to insult Edward's taste in beer, so I just nibble on a cookie after each sip. I guess he catches on to what I'm doing because he offers me a glass of water before long.

"I have to warn you, I'm a pretty cheap drunk. But I guess you already knew that."

"Yeah, I guess this time I won't have to drive you back to my place though," he laughs.

He grows silent after that and though it's not awkward, I feel the need to fill the silence with something. Something smart, if possible.

"Can we finish watching _Hamlet_? I didn't even make it to Polonius's speech. Lame."

"Don't worry about it. It's still in the player." He reaches across my lap to grab the remote and presses all the right buttons to make it resume playing right where it left off. I can't help but think about him pressing all my buttons.

Yum.

Edward sets the remote down and joins me on the couch. He puts his arm around me and pulls me into his side. I didn't expect him to be so bold, but I like that the pretense is starting to slip away. I lean into him and inhale his scent.

The rhythmic beating of his heart combined with the sounds of Shakespeare's words make me feel happy and relaxed as they wash over me.

I sigh contentedly as he grips me tighter.

**A/N: I'm baaaaack! Thanks times a million to my beautiful beta, C Shell for posting the updates while I was away! I love you so bad, girlie!**

**And thanks to everyone who reviewed! They were so wonderful to read when I got a chance to sneak on the internet. **

**So give me more of them now please!**


	21. I've Caught You Once More in Mine Arms

**Author's Note: The characters and settings of Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. The original content, ideas, and plot lines of this story belong to the author. The events in this story are fictional and any similarities to actual persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Additionally, this story contains subject matter not suitable for minors. Underage drinking, drug use, consensual sex, strong language, abuse, and other adult content may be present in this story. Again, all sex in this story is consensual. If you are under 18 and/or uncomfortable with any of these subjects, please be advised that this story may not be for you.**

**This chapter contains an excerpt from Shakespeare's **_**Hamlet. **_**All rights are reserved by the original author and publisher. **

Leading Lady

Chapter 21 – I've Caught You Once More in Mine Arms

Seventh period was starting to become my sit-quietly-and-freak-out period.

_Bella._

She amazed me. She amazed me without even trying.

Once again, the dreaded subject of _Crime and Punishment_ was completely glossed over. Instead, I addressed her writing.

After what happened yesterday, with the kissing and what not and seeing her again in the evening… I completely neglected to read what she'd given me until this morning. On my way to class.

The second I pulled up in the parking lot, I realized that I couldn't face Bella without having read what she'd written for me. It must have taken a lot for her to work up the courage to hand a piece of herself to me, and the most harm I could do would be to ignore it.

So I pulled it out of my bag and started reading as I walked to class.

_Arizona_

_You left three small purple dots_

_On my forearm that night._

_Hot August awakened your_

_Hot temper._

_Your huge hand gripped_

_My tiny wrist_

_Like a rope_

_In tug-of-war._

_I was going one way,_

_You: the other._

_And it could not be so._

_Your palm_

_Branded my shoulder_

_Like the smack of two parting lips._

_I cried and you held me,_

_This must be love: I thought._

I read it again.

I was so entranced by her words that I was hardly fazed when I bumped into someone. I mumbled a quick apology and continued walking and reading.

Bella stunned me. How fearless, how open, and how horrifying. Who did this to her? And why did she choose to share this with _me_? A tremor of fear ran through me because I knew that I couldn't mess this up with her. She'd given me a huge gift – access to her feelings – and it may be the only glimpse I get. I couldn't make things worse for her by shaming her, probing too much, or running away from her. I had to be careful with this.

I held the page delicately in my hand, like it was precious, which I guessed it was. I opened the door to my classroom. I laid it neatly on my desk and went to the whiteboard to distract myself. I knew that if I let my brain picture someone holding Bella hard by the arm… I wouldn't make it through first period.

As I was copying the poetry presentation list onto the board, my mind slipped, and I saw Bella in my mind as Ophelia:

"O, my lord, my lord, I have been so affrighted!

My lord, as I was sewing in my closet,

Lord Hamlet, with his doublet all unbraced;

No hat upon his head; his stockings foul'd,

Ungarter'd, and down-gyved to his ankle;

Pale as his shirt; his knees knocking each other;

And with a look so piteous in purport

As if he had been loosed out of hell

To speak of horrors—he comes before me.

He took me by the wrist and held me hard;

Then goes he to the length of all his arm;

And, with his other hand thus o'er his brow,

He falls to such perusal of my face

As he would draw it. Long stay'd he so;

At last, a little shaking of mine arm

And thrice his head thus waving up and down,

He raised a sigh so piteous and profound

As it did seem to shatter all his bulk

And end his being: that done, he lets me go:

And, with his head over his shoulder turn'd,

He seem'd to find his way without his eyes;

For out o' doors he went without their helps,

And, to the last, bended their light on me."

The words played out in my head, a perfect memory from when I played Hamlet in college. I gripped the dry-erase marker until my knuckles turned white. The sound of Bella laughing broke my growing rage.

I couldn't help but smile knowing that she was happy. She was okay.

I went to my desk and grabbed a sticky note and took it to her desk. _And just what do you think is so funny?_

I went back to my copying. When I sensed Bella enter the room and pass behind me, I stiffened at her scent, but resisted looking at her. I didn't want to break so early in the day. And I had to pretend to be a normal person.

There was no way I could teach the lesson I'd planned in my state of mind, so I gave the class the period to work on their presentations. Bella gave me no hint at what she was giggling about with Angela, so while she was up getting her copy of _Fine Frenzy_, I stuck another note in her bag, wedged between the pages of her notebook. I needed to know.

I hunkered down at my desk and tired to ignore the growing curiosity about the chestnut-haired woman sitting not 20 feet away from me. As I read her poem for the third time that day, I couldn't help but be intrigued by the dichotomy of her. She was both hidden and exposed, both perfect and damaged, both happy and sad. She was hard to figure out.

When I looked back up at her, she was madly blushing crimson red and stifling a smile as she looked at her desk. She had read my note.

I got up and paced the room, and casually checked in with the students on their progress. It was a total guise to get close to Bella and see if she had written a response to my note, which had been: _Going to answer my question? Perhaps we can discuss your case of the giggles during 6th?_

She had.

Written on the palm of her hand was a simple _yes_. I huffed in response and went back to sit in my chair and contemplated just how deep I'd gotten myself in here.

The rest of the day passed in a blur in anticipation of Bella's arrival at my office. I rushed through the word battle in Drama Lit, and I kind of felt bad about it because I think I may have made Bella overly nervous. Perhaps that had been what caused her to miss the word. But I was looking forward to her cookies. I had to admit that much. I'd also hurried through the announcement of the spring play. I had been so excited to tell my students all about _Midsummer_, but the thought of Bella in my office eclipsed that. I was more excited about this girl than I was about my job. And I knew something was wrong with that, but I couldn't help it. She was so entrancing.

I had left my office door wide open in anticipation of our meeting. And when the doorway darkened, signal of her arrival, I wasn't able to quash my excitement. Again, seeing Bella with drops of rain in her hair, a light blush coloring her cheek, her hands knotted in front of her had me smiling and wishing I could launch myself across the room at her.

"Hi," she whispered. Her voice cracked slightly. I hated that I still made her nervous, that we still weren't normal around each other. But I also secretly enjoyed it; it meant that she was as excited about being around me as I was about her.

"Sit down, Bella." I wanted to sound welcoming, but it came out as demanding. So I placed my hand gently on the small over her back and took her bag off her shoulder. She reddened further at my touch, but didn't protest.

She sat down quietly as I dragged my chair out from behind my desk to sit next to her. I needed to show her that she was my equal. I couldn't sit behind my desk. I don't think I ever would with her.

She just bent her head towards her hands and kneaded one fist with the other.

"I read your poem, Bella," I broke the ice. "It was… it was stunning, Bella." I couldn't stop saying her name. "Thank you for sharing that with me."

"I brought more," she mumbled, and reached for her bag. My stomach lurched. _More?_ I felt so lucky to be let in like this. Bella was always guarded. Hell, she was being guarded right now. But at the same time she was opening up. In her own way. On her own terms.

"They're not that good, but maybe you could help?" She handed me two crisp, white pages. I placed them on the desk and angled them so we could read together. "I wrote this one on the ride to school, in my head."

I read it in silence.

_Love held me down as the bubbles rose -_

_Leaking air from my mouth and nose._

_Love put the pillow to my face:_

_He strangled me with strands of lace._

_Love raised the knife and cut my wrists -_

_Punched at me with swollen fists._

_Love placed the poison in my cup._

_He kicked me till I'd not get up._

_Love beat me, battered me, stripped me bare,_

_Left me scraped with matted hair;_

_When I was weak and could not stand,_

_You reached for me; you held my hand._

I hoped she was talking about me, but I couldn't be sure, and I was too afraid to ask. With each phrase I read, Bella's history drew further into focus. As angered as I was that she had suffered so much, and at the hands of god knows who, I knew I couldn't handle hearing that the saving figure at the end wasn't me. Was it Jacob?

I wouldn't allow that thought to poison the closeness I was feeling with Bella, so I pushed the page to the edge of the table without saying anything and read the second one.

_It's trite to write about love._

_(Isn't it?)_

_When I asked my mom why all songs are about love,_

_She said,_

_It's a very important thing._

_(I didn't believe her.)_

_Am I changing my mind?_

_Is he changing my heart?_

_Do I believe her now?_

_The word is short -_

_Gone almost as soon as it's said._

_(But the feeling!)_

_It's the feeling that lingers on._

_It hangs there,_

_Like the fumes from a stove,_

_Waiting to ignite._

Again, I couldn't help but hope that I was the _he_ she wrote about.

I leaned back in my chair, stunned by Bella's forwardness, her willingness to share with me, and by the words themselves. I couldn't let the silence linger for too long. I could feel her anxiety growing, as if she were about to snap up her pages and storm off. She'd shown me herself, now I had to show her it was okay.

"Wow," I breathed. "Great work. And thank you for sharing it with me."

"Really?" she coughed, and snuck a peek at my expression.

"Yes, really. Your writing is strong. You have a good sense of self, especially for your age." I immediately regretted bringing up her age. I don't think of her as any younger than myself, though I know she is. I meant that most writers don't develop much of a voice until later in life. But I couldn't take it back now.

"Thanks. I think I sound a little like e.e. cummings, Especially in the last one."

"Yeah, I guess you do a little," I countered. I was glad she wasn't throwing a fit about me calling her young.

It got uncomfortably quiet in my small office and I wanted to touch her so badly, but I didn't. I guess I was waiting for a sign that it was okay. I needed everything to be on her terms. I couldn't push this girl.

So, instead of brushing the hair away from her face, and kissing her soft, pink lips, I caught her eyes with mine and earnestly asked her, "Are you okay?"

"How do you mean?" she slurred, and colored red again. She looked intoxicated by my gaze and I strained not to touch her.

"I mean, these poems. Do I need to worry?"

"I don't think so. Things are better here. Things are different."

"Okay, I'm glad to hear that. Do you want to talk about this?" I asked, and gestured to the papers on my desk. She furtively shook her head no. "Okay. But, Bella, if you ever do… if you ever need someone to talk to, please know that I would be more than happy to listen. Please." I was almost begging her to show me more of herself.

I wanted to know what complete asshole did this to her, how anyone could do such a thing. I wanted her to tell me that it was over, that she was better, that whoever hurt her wasn't hurting her anymore, but I couldn't read her eyes and I didn't know if she was lying to placate me or if she was really doing alright.

All day I'd been pretending that this woman didn't mean anything to me, that she was just a kid in my class. But she was not a child. She was Bella. Beautiful, brilliant, mature, and strong. I wanted to catch her in my arms and never let her go.

Instead, I just stared into her eyes.

"Edward, I promise. You'll be the first to know if I need anyone." She sighed and broke eye contact. "You're really the only person I have real conversations with." She grumbled the last part and looked ashamed.

"Well, I'm sorry that you haven't been able to speak more openly with other people, but I'm glad I can be here for you."

"I'm glad too." She licked her lips and her eyes slipped closed momentarily, like she was dreaming. Perhaps, had I been reading more into things, I would have taken this as an invitation, but I held back again. I needed a clear signal. At least while I was on school campus. And while she was this vulnerable.

She was so damned sexy and she had no clue.

"Uhm, Bella," I said sternly. I tried hard to focus and pretend I was the professional I claimed to be in my phone interview. "Listen, if you plan to keep writing like this, maybe we should set up an independent study. Meet a few times a week here to discuss your work? Get some credit for what you're doing?" I phrased everything like a question because I didn't want to push her too hard to spend another hour with me each day. We already spent three together on a regular day.

"Okay, I'll think about it." She said it like she meant yes. "I don't know how long this creative streak will last."

"Alright, well, I hope we can work something out," I said, but I wasn't really talking about independent study at all.

"Mhmm," she hummed, and slightly leaned into me.

The bell rang, like it always did right when I wanted to touch Bella most. But I guess it was for the best. I hadn't gotten my formal invite from her yet, and I might have really spoiled something good there.

Before I could think to say anything, she was shoving the papers toward me, thanking me for my time, shouldering her bag, and walking to the door.

"Bye," I choked out quietly as the door clicked shut.

"If we're going to keep doing this... I brought a toothbrush." Bella brandishes a blue toothbrush and plops it in the cup next to my sink.

She's slept over every night this week. Though each night we play it off like it's an accident that she fell asleep in my arms, that she had to come over at all, I've fast gotten used to the feeling of her in my arms all night.

In fact, I've started to rely on the 8pm text or email with an excuse for needing to see me. A homework question. A book suggestion. A new recipe she needs tasted.

I take her toothbrush in my bathroom as a sign she wants to stay for a while, not just for the night. The idea is so seductive, so enticing to me that I can hardly contain my excitement.

So I push her up against the counter, feel my hips press into her, and her ass push back toward my hardening dick.

I wrap my arms around her from behind, and they almost come all the way back around. She's so tiny in my arms.

Things are different between us when we're inside my house. She's bold, provocative, funny, talkative, and relaxed. She agreed to an independent study with me, but even there, at school, she's still stiff when we're alone together. I think she's hyperaware of rules and what others will think when we're on campus. But when she's alone with me in my house… God, she's so totally different. Just happy, open, and sweet.

"You are so beautiful, Bella. I'm glad you want to stay." I pull the hair away from her neck and begin kissing it tenderly, up toward her ear and back down toward her collarbone. When I look up I can see her heated expression looking back at me in the mirror.

She's panting and gripping the edge of the sink, a desperate look in her eyes. She licks her lips and her eyes slip closed. A low hum flows from her lips as she revels in the pleasure I'm giving her.

My hands roam her form as I kiss her neck, and I feel her stomach first, soft but firm beneath her shirt, and her breasts, her taut nipples pressing through her bra.

"I want you, Edward," she moans.

A tremor runs though me. _Jesus. This is what I have been hoping for. And yet... it isn't._

I want her so badly, not just because she's beautiful, delicate, and here, in my house, wanting me, but also because she's smart, and funny, and wonderful.

But something inside me tells me it's right, not tonight. Things are moving too fast, if not for me than definitely for Bella.

I, for one, have slept with women the first day I've met them. I was fine with casual sex, and that was my scene up until… now.

But with Bella it's not casual, it can't be. I know Bella must be much less experienced than I am – by far – and I don't want to rush her into this. I want this to be special, especially if it might be her first time.

"I want you too, Bella. So badly," I groan. I hate myself for not just jumping blindly at the opportunity. I want to take her right here on my bathroom sink. I kiss her again on the neck, give her a little lick and squeeze her closer to me. I don't want her to feel rejected, because I'm not rejecting her. I just need… time. "But are we talking about making love here?"

I stop my kissing to roll my eyes at myself. Never in my life have I called _that_ making love before. Sex, fucking, banging, yes, but saying _making love_ makes me feel like a total sap.

Which I guess I am now.

She rolls her eyes back at me.

"Yes, Edward, sex," she says bluntly, but with a shake in her voice. I can tell it's taking everything in her to talk about this calmly. I can see she's trying to be serious about this but she's also nervous. It is like she wants to be mature and adult about the topic of sex but still doesn't know how to approach it.

"Wow, Bella." I whisper against her neck as I run my hands up and down her sides. I don't know which one of us I'm trying to soothe. "Bella, I can't do that." I want to be able to explain.

Her body jerks away from me. I can tell she's feeling the pain of rejection and I wonder if this is the first time someone has turned her down. I hold her firmly in place, because I need her to know that I want her too. I need her, I do; I just can't do this tonight.

"Why not, Edward? Why?" she asks, her eyes closed. I can tell I've hurt her, and I feel my heart constrict in my chest. This is not what I wanted. At all.

"Bella," I breathe and try to steady myself. "I don't just want to take you to bed. I want to give you more than just sex."

I know that before I can feel the inside of her, she has to feel the inside of me.

I need her to know how I feel about her. I can't just fuck her and walk away like I have with every other woman I know. I know that after I've slept with her, things won't be the same, things won't be able to go back to how they were.

Feeling Bella in that way would permanently change me. And I have no idea what it will do to her.

"You don't want to… that's…" she says, and shakes her head.

I turn her around and hold her against me. Her soft body molds to mine and I run my hands up and down her back.

"Believe me," I respond, and look into her eyes. "I want to. Just not tonight."

**Review, please!**

**See you guys next Monday! (P.S. Sorry for the late posting. I was on the best flippin' first date of my entire life.)**


	22. Woe is Me

Leading Lady

Chapter 22 – Woe is Me

I try to call him again.

I'm sitting on the edge of my bathtub and he doesn't answer. I end the call and take another Advil. I need to sleep.

I wake up and I'm lost. I rub the edge of the bedside table until I find another pill and I grasp it between my fingers. I swallow it without water and get out of bed.

It's still dark out and I'm too tired to find the light switch, so I just fumble around until I find a pair of jeans. I slip them on, first the right leg, then the left.

They are tighter than they were yesterday and I feel worried again. I take another Advil. I can't tell if my eyes are open yet.

I know he's sleeping but I call anyway. No answer, just his rough voice at the other end and a tone. I hang up. I have no words and my throat is dry.

I don't bother putting on a clean shirt. I pull my greasy hair away from my face and tie it with an elastic. I try to trip on my way down the stairs, but for once my balance holds and I remain upright. My coat is hanging by the door.

I thread my arms through the sleeves and push each button through its hole. The hood wraps around my head and I pretend that I am safe. Protected.

It's not yet snowing, but it will be soon. My bare feet find shoes and I am out the door. I'm walking down the street to find him. One foot goes in front of the other and my hands are in my pockets.

I'm growing nearer, but I'm not there yet.


	23. I Follow But Myself

**Author's Note: The characters and settings of Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. The original content, ideas, and plot lines of this story belong to the author. The events in this story are fictional and any similarities to actual persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Additionally, this story contains subject matter not suitable for minors. Underage drinking, drug use, consensual sex, strong language, abuse, and other adult content may be present in this story. Again, all sex in this story is consensual. If you are under 18 and/or uncomfortable with any of these subjects, please be advised that this story may not be for you.**

**This chapter contains an excerpt from Tony Kushner's **_**Angels in America, Part 1: Millennium Approaches, **_**and a poem by e e cummings.**__**All rights are reserved by the original author and publisher.**

Leading Lady

Chapter 23 – I Follow But Myself

"_Believe me, I want to. Just not tonight."_

"Then when?" I whisper against his chest, almost hoping he doesn't hear me. I don't know what I'm doing here in Edward's arms. He obviously doesn't feel the same way about me. I don't know what he wants, but if he doesn't want to have sex with me, there's no point in me chasing after him anymore.

I mean, he's a warm blooded American male. Why wouldn't he just go for it?

_Right, because I'm me,_ I remember.

I breathe against him and push back with the palms of my hands. "I think I'd better go." I can feel myself redden, but I avoid eye contact. I don't want Edward to see me upset.

"Don't. Please don't go, Bella. Listen –"

"I get it, Edward. You don't need to make excuses." I turn away from him and walk out of the bathroom door, leaving Edward and my blue toothbrush in my wake.

He doesn't fight back. He doesn't call after me or follow behind. He doesn't care. I slip my shoes on at the door and walk out. It feels like it's going to snow. I stumble across the street without looking, fighting back the tears that are stinging my eyes. I unseeingly make my way up the porch steps, all the while ignoring the ache in my chest.

My hands tremble as I push my key into the lock. I've spent every night this week sleeping in Edward's arms and now what? Nothing.

What does he want? Something warm in his bed? A girl to toy with? Marriage before intercourse?

I trip over my laces as I stumble towards the stairs. I need to be in my own bed, but the tears welling in my eyes blind me and I have to stop and sit on the bottom step.

I choke as the pain of rejection runs through me. I put my head between my knees and feel my nails dig into my jeans.

I feel like screaming.

What the hell? Does no one want me? I've been tossed aside by everyone I've ever been close to, and now Edward.

Edward.

I whimper his name into my hands as I press my face into them. I try to shut myself up. I should have expected this. Stupid, stupid girl.

My phone buzzes from inside my sweatshirt pocket and I ignore it. If it's Edward, I don't want to hear his _I'm sorry_. And if it's anyone else, I don't want _them _to hear _me._

I sit on the step blubbering until my ass is numb and my knees ache. I don't know how late it is, but I need to get to bed.

I kick my shoes off and pad up the stairs in my stocking feet as I wipe the tears from my face. I know I'm red and blotchy and more ugly than usual, but I don't care. I don't wash my face or brush my teeth or comb my hair. I simply peel off my jeans and toss my sweatshirt on the floor.

I feel weak, blotted out.

I long to know that someone cares about me. But I know I'll never feel that. I've never even felt that false-assurance of the guise of love. Maybe ignorance really is bliss. I wish I believed love existed. That way I would at least be happy. Even if it wasn't true.

I lose the battle inside my head and check my phone once I'm tucked into my bed. I flip my phone open and squint blearily at it. The bright light of the phone burns my tired eyes in the dark and I struggle to read the screen.

Jacob.

He texted.

_Just wanted to say that I'm looking forward to our scene tomorrow. Sorry for bugging you._

I stare at the screen, dumbstruck. I had forgotten about both Jacob and our scene. I glance in the direction of the Xeroxed copy of the scene sitting on my desk, but reassure myself that my lines are memorized and that the best thing for me right now is sleep.

I can't help but feel warmed knowing that Jake took the time to text me that he was thinking about me. And I don't want him to think that he's actually bugging me, because really, nothing could be more welcome after the sting Edward gave me.

I push his name out of my head and start typing a response to Jacob.

_I'm excited, too. Really. I hope you have your lines memorized. ;)_

I add the winking face at the end for good measure. Just so he knows I meant that jab in jest. I press send and close my phone. I roll over under the covers and shove the phone under my pillow.

Just as I leave it there and pull my hand from beneath the cushion, it buzzes again. I reach for it, finding the cool plastic case against my fingertips almost soothing.

_Of course I do! See you in the morning. Bell-A._

I crack a smile in the dark. I almost hate myself for allowing another emotion to seep in other than misery. I wanted to wallow, but it feels so good to grin. Even if it's just because Jake remembered that I hate being called 'Bells.'

I flash on the last time he called me that. I screamed in his face. And he deserved it. For someone who pisses me off so regularly, he's really starting to get under my skin. And not in a bad way, either.

I had expected to cry myself to sleep, but I end up smiling.

Fucking waterlogged.

That's how I feel this morning. I need a decongestant and a slap to the face.

I can believe how emotional I let myself get over a guy last night. Two guys really. It's almost disgusting. These people should not matter to me. Either one of them.

But somehow they do.

I dress in all black in preparation for the scene I have to perform today. I used to do this in Phoenix on performance days. I like to think it helps the audience focus on my acting more than what I'm wearing, but now I'm pretty sure it's the OCD or superstitious part of me that cleaves to this little tradition.

I consider wearing some clunky combat boots to reflect my mood, but opt for some plain flats so I'll be able to move easier on stage. In the back of my mind, I know that my little piggies are probably going to freeze to death on the drive to school and walks between classes, but it's the price I'm willing to pay.

I focus myself so intently on dressing that I almost – _almost_ – forget that I'll soon be in… his classroom. I ignore the painful thought as if doing so will change the fact that I do indeed have to be in the same small room with him, not once, but potentially three times today. I cringe and I thread my arms through the sleeves of my sweatshirt.

I brush Charlie on the way out the door. "Going Goth today?" he asks with a chuckle. "Should I be concerned?"

"No," I mumble through a strawberry pop tart. "Scene today."

"Knock 'em dead, kiddo," he smirks and chucks me on the shoulder.

I give him a genuine smile.

That right there, in that tiny second, Charlie showed more interest in my life than Renee had in the seventeen years I lived with her. It means something.

It's freezing out. I almost slip on the way to my truck but my balance holds. The drive to school is the same as ever, but today I'm not writing poetry in my head, or wondering what sweater Edward is wearing, or questioning my choice of underwear and how that could potentially affect sixth period. No, I force those thoughts away and focus on running lines in my head.

_Edward doesn't want you._

It creeps in, uninvited.

I park where I always park and keep my eyes on the pavement as I walk to first period. I don't want to see his long legs stretching out of his car, his limber fingers squeezing the key fob to lock the door, his russet hair blowing in the cold wind.

I try to blend in with the dreary, gray weather, and hope that my black outfit will shrink me into the background. I hear footsteps behind me but I keep walking. I don't turn around; I don't think about it, I just walk. Robot.

_You're a stupid little girl._

I lean against the wall of the classroom with my eyes cast down on the screen of my phone while Edward opens the door. I re-read Jacob's text from last night. I feel my face spread into a smile and while I don't want to show any emotion in front of the man who spurned me last, I secretly hope he sees that I'm smiling. And he's not the one who made me do it.

I snap my phone shut as the door swings hooks me by the elbow and leads me into the classroom. We take our customary seats in the front row as she rambles in a forced whisper about how nervous she is to perform today. I nod my head furtively and try to comfort her, but I'm putting so much effort into appearing to be normal that I can't even focus on her impending panic attack.

We read from _Death of a Salesman_ for a while in a circle on the floor, but I don't raise my hand to read, I just track the lines as Jessica mars every word that has more than three syllables. When the torture of the scratchy, stiff carpet digging into my ass and the grating whine of Jessica's voice is over, I sit at my desk and work on my poetry presentation.

I cup my face in both hands as I lean over e.e. cummings.

may i feel said he

(i'll squeal said she

just once said he)

it's fun said she

(may i touch said he

how much said she

a lot said he)

why not said she

(let's go said he

not too far said she

what's too far said he

where you are said she)

may i stay said he

which way said she

like this said he

if you kiss said she

may i move said he

is it love said she)

if you're willing said he

(but you're killing said she

but it's life said he

but your wife said she

now said he)

ow said she

(tiptop said he

don't stop said she

oh no said he)

go slow said she

(cccome?said he

ummm said she)

you're divine!said he

(you are Mine said she)

The verse that felt sexy and joking yesterday now reads harsh and unfair today. I press on, scratching pen to paper. I blink back the tears, the stupid, traitor tears that don't even make any sense. I write my notes and ignore the restless hum of the voices of other students, signaling that the end of the hour is near.

I close the book I've been reading from and carry it back to the cart like a zombie. _This is not how I should be feeling on scene day,_ I think to myself. _I should be energized, not lackluster and depressed._

And just like clockwork, it's there, poking out from under the notes I've taken: a corner of yellow. I gruffly push my notebook out of the way as I sit.

_I need to talk to you. –E_

I look up, but his back is to me as he walks away.

_Fuck you, asshole._ I don't want to talk to him.

_Okay, _I mouth in his direction when he takes a seat back at his desk. I hate myself, but that was totally out of my control. My instincts took over. I was just trying to be polite.

Whatever.

I know he means during sixth period, so I just shove my things in my bag and follow the students out into the wet outdoors when class lets out. The ground is slick from the rain and I know that if I'm not careful, I'll slip on my way to Music Theory and cover my black cords in mud.

- - -

Mrs. Meyers seems to be in a chipper mood this morning and though it does little to offset the fog I'm in, I'm grateful for the distraction from my nerves. I'm anxious about my scene with Jacob – which is rapidly approaching – and I can't untie the knot that sits in the pit of my stomach, the one that tightens whenever I think about sixth period.

"I'm sure many of you attended the meeting on Tuesday about the spring show, _A Midsummer Night's Dream_. I've been working on a few pieces of music for it and I'd like to test out a few of the songs. Peter, if you wouldn't mind, please go and fetch your bass from the band room. Angela, I've left the sheet music on the piano." Ang rolls her eyes at me as she hoists herself from her seat. I'm just grateful I'm spared from having to do anything but pick my nose this hour. Just going to sit here and zone the fuck out.

"Bella, can you sing second on this please?" I look over and Mrs. Meyers is brandishing the photocopied sheet music in my direction and Jessica is proudly clutching some pages as she stands next to the piano.

Great, this girl is going to sing first soprano? Granted, it's the easiest part, but Jessica can't carry a melody to save her life. I giggle to myself and walk to the front of the class. A girl whose name I never learned approaches the piano as well to collect her sheet music. I take it she'll be singing alto.

Peter plunks lazily through the first few bars of one of the songs, a sort of low haunting thing that sets my teeth on edge. I gloss over the notes and go into autopilot. I ignore Jessica and sing my part, feeling robotic.

I lose myself in the sound of Angela crunching together minor chords on the piano and Garrett gliding a brush along the rim of a cymbol. It's eerie, but it suits my mood.

We run the song a few times, taking Mrs. Meyer's direction, switching parts now and then, building to a crescendo at the end and then dropping to a closed-mouth hum as the last thrum of Peter's bass fades away.

Mrs. Meyer smiles at all of us and lets us go early.

I refuse to spend brunch out in the freezing rain, so I sit in the green room on one of the dingy brown couches. I chew on a pop tart and re-read my script for the zillionth time. Something large crashes down next to me and nearly launches me off my spot on the couch. I choke on a crumb and double over in a fit of coughs. A huge hand slaps me on the back and I feel my eyes nearly pop out of my head as the blood rushes to my face.

"Not! Helping!" I wheeze between dry heaves.

"Sorry, Bella!" Arms wrap around me and my face is slammed into a hard chest. I can't see, but I know it's Jacob. He smells like motor grease. And the woods.

I catch my breath and wipe my leaking eyes on the hem of my sweatshirt. "Ready to do this?"

"You know it." I quirk an eyebrow at him. I notice that he, too, is dressed in all black. Great minds.

"Run lines?"

"Yup." I clear my throat. The emptiness I feel inside feeds into Harper's character, and as my eyes glaze over in an antic stupor, I push down the warmth that blooms at my core when I see Jake smiling back at me. "Where were you?" I say, unveiling my eyelids.

"Out," Jake snaps, a calm veneer giving way to Joe's simmering anger.

I shut my eyes. "Where?"

I feel Jake shift next to me on the couch but I keep my eyes closed, and focus on the black hole inside me. I can't tell if it's growing or shrinking.

"Just out. Thinking," Jake says, a little tremble in his voice.

"It's late," I whine.

"I had a lot to think about." Jacob gets up and starts shuffling around the room, his work boots squeaking against the linoleum.

"I burned dinner." I scoot to the edge of the couch.

Jacob rolls his eyes and shifts his weight. "Sorry."

I hear his phone buzz in his pocket, but I ignore it and try to stay in character.

"Not my dinner. My dinner was fine. Your dinner. I put it back in the oven and turned everything up as high as it could go and I watched til it burned black. It's still hot. Very hot. Want it?" Playing Harper makes me feel a bit more insane than usual, but I kind of like it. It's a welcome relief from the actual craziness of my own life.

"You didn't have to do that," he sighs.

"I know," I spout smugly, pushing myself from the couch. "It just seemed like the kind of thing a mentally deranged sex-starved pill-popping housewife would do." I linger in the phrase 'sex-starved,' but banish the thought. Thinking that way will get me nowhere.

"Uh huh." His phone buzzes again and he palms it from the outside of his jeans.

"So I did it." I try to get his full attention, feeling more and more like Harper all the time. "Who knows anymore what I have to do?" I don't get Jacob. He texted me last night, he practically made me choke to death when he very excitedly surprised me on the couch just a minute ago, but now I'm watching his attention slip. He's always been hot and cold with me, but I don't understand why he would ask to run lines if he'd rather be twiddling around on his phone. I can tell he's just itching to respond to whatever is going on inside his pocket. I don't even realize how long I've been quietly thinking until Jacob cracks the silence with a jolt, obviously realizing he dropped his line.

"How many pills?" he snaps. I can't tell if his agitation is coming from the character or from himself. I figure he's actually irritated, because truthfully, Jacob isn't that great of an actor.

I snap right back at him. _Focus, dude._ "A bunch. Don't change the subject." I narrow my eyes at his buzzing pocket and he turns away from me.

"I won't talk to you when you..." He's using his Joe tone of voice, but I can tell that he's gritting through the lines, desperately trying not to get mad at me.

I feel like a rubber band is being stretched inside me. "No. No. Don't do that! I'm...I'm fine, pills are not the problem, not our problem." The band pulls so tight and I finally release it, funneling my rage and confusion into the words. I know they're not my words, but they're all I have. "I WANT TO KNOW WHERE YOU'VE BEEN! I WANT TO KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON! Stick to the subject," I end on a sigh.

Jacob stomps around the stage, looking pissed, and a bit confused himself. "I don't know what that is. You have something you want to ask me? Ask me. Go." He throws his hands up in the air.

I do have something I want to ask him, I want to but I feel like Harper. A coward. "I...can't. I'm scared of you."

"I'm tired. I'm going to bed." Jake makes a move like Joe is about to leave the room, and he glances to the edge of the stage.

The lights are beating down on me and I can't believe this is all happening in front of an audience. This may be one of the best performances I've ever given, but I'm not acting. "Tell me without making me ask. Please."

Jacob paces the stage, looking guilty as all hell. "This is crazy, I'm not..."

I start to plead. I need to know what's going on with him. I furrow my brow and start speaking. "When you come through the door at night your face is never exactly the way I remembered it. I get surprised by something... mean and hard about the way you look. Even the weight of you in the bed at night, the way you breathe in your sleep seems unfamiliar." I pause. "You terrify me."

"I know who you are." He points his finger at me. Accusing. This is starting to feel less and less like a conversation between Joe and Harper and more like Jake defending himself to me.

I toss my hands in the air and start to pace. Closer to him, then further away. "Yes. I'm the enemy. That's easy. That doesn't change. You think you're the only one who hates sex; I do; I hate it with you; I do. I dream that you batter away at me till all my joints come apart, like wax, and I fall into pieces. It's like a punishment. It was wrong of me to marry you. I knew you..." I force myself to come to a stop. "It's a sin, and it's killing us both."

"I can always tell when you've taken pills because it makes you red-faced and sweaty and frankly that's very often why I don't want to..." He tries to tell me that whatever is going on with him is my fault, that I'm pushing him away, that my behavior is wrong.

"Because..." I try to level with him, but I'm caught by the script.

"Well, you aren't pretty. Not like this." _Go ahead, Jacob, insult me. Use Joe's words. Do it._

"I have something to ask you." I begin to toy with the hem of my shirt, feigning innocence.

"Then ASK! ASK! What in the hell are you..."

"Are you a homo?" What I'm asking is _who are you? _But he doesn't answer, because he can't. Because Joe can't. "Are you? If you try to walk out right now I'll put your dinner back in the oven and turn it up so high the whole building will fill with smoke and everyone in it will asphyxiate. So help me God I will. Now answer the question."

"What if I..."

"Then tell me, please. And we'll see." Whatever the fuck is happening with him, whoever he is talking to besides me, it's okay. I try to tell him by looking him in the eye. But all I see is Joe.

"No. I'm not." _Meaning, what?_ "I don't see what difference it makes. I think we ought to pray. Ask God for help. Ask him together..."

I need Jacob to tell me. "God won't talk to me. I have to make up people to talk to me."

"You have to keep asking."

"I forgot the question. Oh yeah. God, is my husband a..."

"Stop it. Stop it. I'm warning you. Does that make any difference? That I might be one thing deep within, no matter how wrong or ugly that thing is, so long as I have fought, with everything I have, to kill it. What do you want from me? What do you want from me, Harper? More than that? For God's sake, there's nothing left, I'm a shell. There's nothing left to kill. As long as my behavior is what I know it has to be. Decent. Correct. That alone in the eyes of God." He rambles and I feel him falling deeper into character, further away from me and it's so damn frustrating.

"No, no, not that, that's Utah talk, Mormon talk, I hate it Joe, tell me, say it..."

"All I will say is that I am a very good man who has worked very hard to become good and you want to destroy that. You want to destroy me, but I am not going to let you do that." He paces for a bit and then stops and looks down at me, right in my face.

"I'm going to have a baby." I fuck with him like Harper fucks with Joe. But I don't think it works.

"Liar," he spits.

"You liar." I narrow my eyes and tip up on my toes, closer to his face. I taunt him. "A baby born addicted to pills. A baby who does not dream but who hallucinates, who stares up at us with big mirror eyes and who does not know who we are." _I have a secret, Jake, and I know you do too…_

"Are you really...?" He drifts.

"No. Yes. No. Yes. Get away from me. Now we both have a secret." I storm off the stage, fighting back tears. I don't know what happened.

I lost Edward.

I lost Jacob.

The theatre fills with applause and I know I have to go out there and take my bow and then field comments and questions about the scene. I don't want to, but I have to. I wipe the back of my sleeve against my face, take a deep breath and walk back onto the stage. Jacob is holding his arms open like he wants a hug. I don't want to even touch Jacob right now, but everyone is looking so I hesitantly step toward him and delicately place my arms around his waist. _Let's just get this over with._

He slams my head against his chest and hooks his hands under my arms and lifts me up. He swinging me around like a rag doll in front of the whole fucking class. I can hear them laughing. His phone buzzes against my thigh. I can't believe he brought that thing onstage.

"Put me down," I growl.

He places me down and pats me on the head. I don't get it, but it doesn't matter.

"Comments, guys?" Edward calls out to the class. I haven't spoken a word to him and I don't plan on actually talking to him unless I absolutely have to. I don't know what kind of word vomit will come rushing out if I open my mouth.

"I really liked the emotion you guys had. It was good." The lights are so bright that I can't see who the speaker is, but judging by the inanity of the comment, it's either Jessica or Lauren.

"Well put, Jessica." Ew, I want to puke. Don't talk to that girl. I'm an idiot for being jealous, especially because I just declared to myself that I won't be speaking to him anyway, but this image of Jessica sprawled out in Edward's sheets almost has me doubled over in pain.

"Thank you," I reply with a sarcastic half-smile. I wish I could look her in the eye, stare her down, let her know that Edward is mine. But it's too dark out there and Edward isn't mine.

"I think you guys had great range. The crests and valleys in the tone and pacing really added to the tension of the scene. You could tell that you guys were very in it, so to speak," Quil pipes up.

"Thanks, man," Jake replies, jutting out his chin in that annoying bro kind of way. I eye him with my periphery. _I gave more crests and valleys than you, bro, _I think snidely to myself. I plaster a smile on my face and accept a few more compliments about the scene. I answer a few questions about the rehearsal process and our choice to cut certain lines before I go and sit between Angela and Rosalie.

I don't expect either one of them to say anything. But Rose leans over, her hand still gripping Emmett's thigh. "You were much a bitch up there. I loved it."

"Thanks, Rose." I mumble, unsure of how to take that.

She winks at me. "My first few days on the pill were emotional too. It'll pass."

"I haven't even started taking it yet, Rose." I shush her. Who knows who could be listening to our conversation right now.

"What did I say to you? Biracial babies," she whines. "Just saying."

I can't believe anyone could think that I'm sleeping with Jacob right now, especially given the fit I just threw up there. I'm only grateful I had the excuse that I was "in character." But honestly, me and Jacob? It's ridiculous.

Ang pats me on the back and congratulates me on a good scene. I reach into my bag and grab the name cards. "And the next performer is…" I call out, super fucking chipper. "Jessica!"

_This should be interesting._

I grab my notebook out of my bag and hunker down. I don't plan on paying any attention.

Rosalie hops up form her seat and kisses Emmett sloppily on the cheek. She joins Jessica on stage. Jess is facing away from us, doing that annoying thing where an actor will pretend to get into character while the audience can't see. When Rose gets up there, Jessica whips around, a wild look on her face. Ang grabs me by the elbow and we both have to hang our heads to hide our laughter.

Rosalie is playing Harper, too. And she's actually doing a decent job of it. Very vacant and distant with moments of startling clarity. But Jessica is playing Mr. Lies all wrong. It's stupid. She's supposed to be a cool, smooth hallucination of Harper's, in a way an extension of Harper herself, but she's prancing and jumping around the stage like a madman. I can't wait for her to claim that she was "taking a risk." No, Jess, you just suck at acting.

The scene drags on and on, and I just continue doodling in my notebook to pass the time. I start writing a variation of a ghazal. I found the form in that book Edward let me borrow. I press my pen to the lined paper, writing slowly in my best handwriting. Anything to take my mind off the pain of what's going on up there.

_Allow yourself to be quiet now, and still._

_If you hold your thoughts inside, they'll be there still._

_You need not announce every ache and pain_

_Of yours. Your constant chatter is a pain._

_Empty your mind and cease your crying._

_No one, can longer bear this crying._

_Oh God! Lend me some silence. I only want to borrow it._

_Hush my quick tongue, praise those that scold it._

_Isabella Swan, silence yourself now,_

_No one else can do it for you now._

The room claps. I feel like I'm waking up. I press my knees against the seat in front of me and draw my notebook closer to my chest. I don't want anyone reading what I've written.

A stream of pseudo-intellectual comments flows from my peers and I contemplate just standing up and screaming. Instead, I just dig the edge of my notebook into my thigh.

We watch one more scene. Embry and Lauren. It's a weird combo, but the scene they chose from _Hay Fever_ is funny and goes by easily. I'm still somewhere between a daze and an exact awareness of my surroundings. I hate today.

"Alright, we're out of class time." Edward claps his hands together as he walks the ramp up to the stage. Angela breathes a deep sigh of relief. I guess she really was nervous about performing. Now she gets to go on Monday. I'm just glad I got it out of the way.

"That was wonderful, guys. A real treat. I'm looking even more forward to working on the spring show. I hope all of you will audition. Less than two weeks left now, so get to memorizing those monologues. See you all tomorrow."

The bell rings. I need to get out of here. I only have so much time before I'm going to be locked in a small room with the man who has been pulling at my heart strings, and I need to maximize that time. I snap my notebook shut and throw it into my bag, but my favorite pen goes flying across the theater and lands under a seat a few rows over. Ang is waving at me like we're going to be late for choir. I wave her on, shoulder my bag, and go to hunt for my pen. I see Edward nearing me and for a second I think I need to just make a run for it, but I can't leave my pen. I need it to make notes on my sheet music and the thought of some freshman finding it on the floor in here and adopting it as their own would really be the cherry on top of this fucking amazing day. I'm going to just grab it and book it out of here.

I squeeze between the seats and kneel on the floor. My palms rub the sticky, dirty floor. I feel his presence above me.

"Looking for this, Bella?"

**A/N: Loves, please accept my deepest apologies! I know how late this chapter is and I'm so sorry I made you guys wait. I will try to stick to the Monday posting schedule from now on, but please excuse any lateness in advance. What can I say? I fell in love. It's distracting.**

**Thanks as always to my beautiful and lovely beta, C Shell. You rock my world, gurl!**


	24. I Will Wear My Heart Upon My Sleeve

**Author's Note: The characters and settings of Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. The original content, ideas, and plot lines of this story belong to the author. The events in this story are fictional and any similarities to actual persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Additionally, this story contains subject matter not suitable for minors. Underage drinking, drug use, consensual sex, strong language, abuse, and other adult content may be present in this story. Again, all sex in this story is consensual. If you are under 18 and/or uncomfortable with any of these subjects, please be advised that this story may not be for you.**

Leading Lady

Chapter 24 – I Will Wear My Heart Upon My Sleeve

I can't. I can't, I can't, I can't.

I can't sleep without Bella. But I can't sleep with her either.

I'm in my bed. Alone. I'm lying on my back and my eyes won't close. I need her here. I need her warmth against my body. I need her breath against my neck, my hands against her back, her hair tickling my chest. But she's across the street. In her room, in her own bed. Where she hasn't slept for weeks.

I know what she needs. She needs me to show her physically that I care about her. It's the only way she understands.

But I also know what I need. And it's more than a random fuck. _This girl, this girl, this girl is everything in your life. _

I know what I'm thinking, what thoughts are running through the back of my mind. But I refuse to acknowledge them, to admit that they're real. So I think about now, today, tonight.

What can I do?

My fingers lurch towards my phone.

Call.

Text.

Email.

But I don't. I can't bother her now. She wouldn't even listen if I tried. She stormed out of here like I had just broken up with her, and I know saying sorry won't help.

But time might.

So I'll give it until tomorrow. But then I need to talk to her. I need her to know that even though I haven't slept with her, even though she's my student, even though I can't call her mine to anyone else... Even though all this is wrong, forbidden... I need her to know that I love her.

She's far and away the best thing that ever happened to me. With her I feel open, free. Despite being caged by the fact that other people would consider our relationship inappropriate, despite feeling so fucking scared that I'll lose her because of our circumstances, I've never felt more like I could just lift off and fly.

And at the same time, I want her to hold me down. I want to be tied to her.

I throw the blankets off and place my feet on the cold hardwood floor. I hope winter ends soon.

I throw on a sweatshirt over my tee and PJ bottoms and go downstairs. I know sleep won't soon come tonight. I avert my eyes as I pass my window, not wanting to see if Bella's light across the street is on or not.

I slip down the stairs, pausing to crank the heat up.

I flop onto my couch, mindfucked and exhausted.

The paperwork is laid out on the coffee table. The papers I was excited to show her tonight.

I was going to make our little sixth period get-togethers official. Give us an excuse to be together for another hour each day. That way, even if she couldn't make it to sleep over that night (which has never happened until now), I could still see her, be alone with her.

I had wanted to fill them out together, pick out a course title and make a syllabus. But she's not here to giggle with me about formalities and roll her eyes when I assign homework for this faux-class. The night I had planned… just doesn't exist anymore.

I cup my face in my hands and lean over the papers. I don't know what I do, so I just start writing.

I name the course. Independent Study: Poetry Writing.

I make out the syllabus: 4 poems a week. A book of completed poems at the end of the semester.

I slink around the house, feeling wide-awake and uneasy. I open a beer and microwave a grilled cheese. I sit on the couch and stare at infomercials.

- - -

My alarm slaps me awake in the morning. I lift my head off the armrest. I'm wet. I must have fallen asleep with my beer in my hand. I strip out of my nightclothes and walk up to my bedroom, my stupid, flaccid, useless dick slapping me as I ascend the steps.

I shower quickly, dress in the first things my hands touch. I feel hungover, sedated, underwater, lost.

I'm going to see Bella. I'm going to talk to Bella. I'm going to tell Bella.

I gather the papers from the coffee table, grateful my beer missed them, and stuff them in a manila envelope. I write her name in green pen and slip it into my briefcase, between my laptop and today's lesson plans.

When I arrive on campus, I can see Bella across the lot, lurking like a ghost between the cars, winding her way to class. I follow closer on her heels, wanting to be able to smell her.

I need to talk to her, I need her to know.

I think she knows I'm behind her, but she doesn't turn. Instead, she speeds ahead. I'm weighed down by my bag and I can't chase a student across campus.

She's leaning against the wall of my classroom when I get there, grinning at her phone. I make a fist around my keys and feel the ridges press into my palm. Will she smile for me today?

She's dressed like she's going to a funeral. I feel like I'm at my own. My chest constricts. She's already found someone who will make her happy. Maybe she already found someone who will fuck her. Maybe she already fucked someone.

I've missed my chance. Of course she's moved on. No doubt she's a hot commodity here; gorgeous, smart, funny, with a laugh that could melt your heart, and a body that could set you on fire.

And she's someone else's. Already.

I follow the lesson plan, because I have no other choice. I can't put the class behind schedule again just because I feel like my world is imploding. Okay, so it's not that bad. But I will snap the pecker off of the fucker who bedded Bella before I even got the chance to tell her how I felt.

We read from _Death of a Salesman_ and then I let the students work on their poetry presentations. Words ring in my head; words I never got to say. Words that will never exist now.

But I still need to talk to her. I need her to know anyway. Even if she doesn't want me, even if she turns me in for being a perverted, predatory, disgusting old man, I need her to know that I love her. Because she makes me feel different than I have ever before. She's changed me and I need to know if I've changed her.

I can't let her walk away.

I see that she's reading one of e.e. cummings's dirtier works and I can't help but smirk, knowing that she's reading about a man and a woman touching each other. She wants it, bad. That, or her needs are being met.

She gets up from her desk for a moment. While the class stirs in its readiness to leave, I take the opportunity to scribble on a note and stick it to the laminate of her table, under her notebook.

I walk back to my desk, rubbing where I hurt my hand. She shoots me a dirty look when she finds the note, but silently mouths, _Okay_.

I have my chance.

She scoots out the door with Angela. I hang my head and hope.

It's scene day. And boy, did Bella and Jacob just make a scene. I don't even fully understand what happened with them up there, but the scene they performed was so charged with emotion - emotion that I know Jacob couldn't just muster out of nowhere. It makes me feel certain that something is up between them. This is method acting at best.

I try to lead a discussion about the performances of each student, but my green pen won't stop scratching the yellow tablet in my lap. Little haikus and filthy phrases litter the page where grades should be.

We run out of time before all of the scenes are performed, and I can feel the relief wash through the room. The place empties out. Or so I think.

Bella is shaking like a leaf, crouching between the rows of seats. Her eyes frantically scan the disgusting, soda-encrusted floor and her hands sweep out in search of something. I spot her favorite pen, on the ground a few feet away. I snap it up before she can. She's been avoiding me all day and this may be my only chance to speak to her. Despite the fact that she okayed my request to talk to her, we haven't locked down when, and I get the feeling that after what I just witnessed transpire on stage with Jacob that she might blow me off altogether.

I hold her pen up. "Looking for this, Bella?"

I want to slap myself. That didn't come out right. My intention was to break the ice, hand her something she was looking for, help her out. But that sounded, teasing, douche-y, and just wrong.

"Yes, I am, Mr. Cullen," she snaps, and snatches the pen from my hand. She spins away from me with a scowl on her face.

My hand grabs her arm without my permission. She yanks it away from me. "Don't!" she shouts, barely meeting my gaze. Her eyes burn into my hand. I uncoil my fingers from her arm and she rubs her wrist.

I flash on the night she first slept over. The bruises on her arm. My vision narrows and I feel like I'm going to black out. I love this girl, and this is what I do to her? Repeat each horrible experience she's had with men before? I want to make her trust me, but it's not going to be by touching her like this.

"Keep your hands off me, Edward. I know you hate touching me anyway," she huffs, and I swear I see a tear well in her eye. "I'm late for class." She holds up her pen. "And thanks," she adds.

She slings her bag over her shoulder and pockets the pen. I watch as she makes her way to the back of the theater without looking back at me. The door slams with the finality of the familiar tinny clink. I slump into a seat, defeated.

I can only pray that she'll show up after lunch.

I walk across campus like a zombie. I feel like all I've done today is walk from here to there, thinking and not thinking. Trying to ignore the churning inside of me.

I pop open my office door. Alice is seated behind my desk with her feet propped up. "Hey, bro."

"Don't call me that," I grumble as I set my things down, a bit too roughly. I think I hear the sound of the corner of my laptop getting crunched. I roll my eyes and sit across from her.

"Feel like I haven't seen you in forever. What's keeping you so busy?"

I know she's onto something, because she always is, but I can't let on. I hope I'm not blushing, or squirming, and I try not to itch my ear. "Teaching is a lot harder than I thought. It's very daunting knowing that these are formative years and I might have some influence on these kids." I try to play up the fact that I know I'm older than my students. I need her to know I'm aware of the line between us.

"Daunting. Great vocab word." She raises her eyebrows suggestively, like she knows I'm avoiding the subject.

"So, you wanna run though the _Midsummer_ scene breakdown? I have a prelim character list and a blank costume plot." Anything to distract me from the agony of waiting for Bella to show up. Or not show up.

"Yup." She pulls a pink pen from behind her ear and whips her feet down from their perch.

As we work over the scene changes and costume needs, I try not to pre-cast in my head, but I can't help but picture a petite little brunette as Hermia, fretting about the stage, and a tall blonde Helena bossing her around. Sometimes art imitates life.

I force my students' faces away from my mind. I tune back in to Alice as she babbles about different grades of tulle for fairy skirts and concept development of modern interpretations of Shakespeare.

"So," she suddenly stops the furious movement of her pen across the pages. "I think we need another get-together. I can't imagine how lonely you must be in that quiet little house all by yourself." I swear I hear her suppress a sarcastic laugh. "I won't drag you all the way out to Port Angeles this time. Just dinner and drinks at my place. Tonight."

"I have plans." I don't. Yet.

"You're a goddamn liar and you know it."

"I could have plans. I'm just waiting for them to… develop."

"Ew, are you talking about a booty call?"

"No." Not… exactly.

Wait, maybe that's what Bella thinks this is. Maybe she has no inkling that… that I…

"Whatever. Call her after you've had dinner at our place. I'm making beef wellington." My mouth waters and I start to nod before I know it. I suck at cooking and I can't keep relying on Bella to feed me every night.

"Beautiful. Seven o'clock. Bring alcohol. I don't care what kind." She taps me on the nose, gathers the papers, and starts to spin out of my office. She stops suddenly. "There's a student out here to see you," she sniggers.

"Send her in," I call back. I can't help but sound domineering and idiotic today.

Bella side steps my sister but just stands in the doorway, waiting. I jump up because I'm sitting in her seat. I grab my own chair and wheel it around to sit by her.

"Please sit." Why am I so bossy today?

She sighs and drops her bag on the floor near mine. She sits on the edge of the seat, crosses her ankles and folds her hands in her lap. She won't make eye contact and I'm painfully aware of the fact that she hasn't spoken yet, but I can tell she's trying to be proper. Formal.

I reach to get what I need from my briefcase, and then I nudge my office door shut. "I decided to make this official," I say, and offer the manila envelope to her.

"What is this?" she asks and fingers the flap.

"Open it."

She does.

"I'll resubmit the question. What is this?"

Her words burn me. "They're forms. I wanted to put our meetings in the books. Make our afternoon meetings regular. And since you've been writing so much, and asking me to look at your poems, I thought we could make this a sort of writing class. Independent study."

"I didn't mean to impose. I'll stop bringing my work to you. I'm sorry."

"No. That's the whole point. I want you to share your work with me." _I want you to share everything with me, _I think to say, but don't for some reason. "I like reading your stuff and I want to see more." I point to one of the pages. "That's why I've assigned four poems a week. You can write them all at once or over the course of the week. Whatever you like, as short as a couplet or as long as an epic poem." I stop myself. "We can go over the details later. What do you think?"

She nods tentatively. "If this is what you really want."

"I want nothing more."

She rolls her eyes and mutters, "I know."

I see what she's getting at.

"Bella, I love you," I whisper. It just comes out.

She laughs. She actually has the audacity to laugh in my face when I tell her I love her.

"You don't have to love me, you just have to want me, " she says.

"But, Bella-"

"Save it. I get it. You don't have to worry about it."

"Let me finish, goddamn it!" She gives me a look like she's just swallowed her tongue. "Bella, I love you _and_ I want you. I need you to know how I feel before I can sleep with you."

"You're such a girl."

"I guess... I just, I've never felt this way before, and I don't want to ruin what I think is so good about this and us with… with sex. You mean too much, Bella. I really, really care about you. I do."

Her hand goes to my knee. "I know, Edward. I know because I feel the same way about you. You mean a lot. I just didn't want to… I don't know. I didn't want to get emotional, because I know there's no point." I furrow my brow and look at her quizzically. "It's nothing," she whispers, and squeezes my thigh.

Suddenly my mouth is on hers and it's sweet and warm and feels like home and heaven and I want to bury myself in her, sleep in her lungs, drink her blood, breathe in her breath.

Her little fingers knead into me and my hands find her waist. I grip her and pull her into me. Onto me. She doesn't resist me at all as I feared she would. Instead she pushes her way off her chair and straddles me. I kiss her neck as she pants into my shoulder. I'm growing hard against the apex of her thighs. She grinds down onto my lap and makes this mewing noise that nearly makes me insane. My hands find the zipper of her sweatshirt and I tug it open. She's wearing little more than a sheer black tank top under it and I my mouth make a pop as it falls open. Her nipples are hard and pressing against the lace of her bra. I palm one of her breasts and she leans further into me.

"Edward, I love you," she moans into my mouth before her tongue silences me.

**A/N: Lemon next chapter. If you're good. And by 'good,' I mean, leave me some reviews!**

**What did you do the first time someone said those three magical words?**


	25. Lover's Meeting

**Author's Note: The characters and settings of Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. The original content, ideas, and plot lines of this story belong to the author. The events in this story are fictional and any similarities to actual persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Additionally, this story contains subject matter not suitable for minors. Underage drinking, drug use, consensual sex, strong language, abuse, and other adult content may be present in this story. Again, all sex in this story is consensual. If you are under 18 and/or uncomfortable with any of these subjects, please be advised that this story may not be for you.**

Leading Lady

Chapter 25 – Lover's Meeting

"_Edward, I love you."_

It sneaks out of my mouth before I have to chance to remind myself it's not real.

I don't love him. Because I can't. Love isn't real. But this feels good.

My legs are on either side of Edward's. He brushes my hair over my shoulder and wraps his arms around my back. I'm painfully close to him. But what hurts is that I'm not close enough.

"Bella," he whispers against my neck, "I want you. I'm sorry if you ever thought differently. I just… you just…"

"I know," I mumble as he slowly slides his hand up my side, narrowly missing my breast, and strokes my cheek with the back of his hand. He kisses my neck, slow, long caresses, and I feel like I'm dying. My legs tremble as his hand follows the trail he's making with his mouth. He pauses and presses the heel of his hand into the pulse at the side of my neck.

"We shouldn't be… friends. I'm not good for you, Bella," he says, so close to me his lips brush my earlobe as he speaks. He lets out a heavy sigh. I can feel his chest against my breasts. My nipples harden further at his closeness.

"Well, you really should've figured that out a little earlier," I moan into his shoulder.

"I know. But it's too late," he continues, "I've fallen for you. And I get the feeling you have too. For me."

"Yes, of course." I try to gather my thoughts, but I can't. Edward is admitting to having feelings for me? All the fear, the craziness, the worry I've put myself through these past weeks have been for nothing. He cares about me? I can't quite grasp it, but I revel in the pleasure of his words and try not to analyze it too much. It's difficult for me.

I rest my head on Edward's shoulder and just inhale the scent of him. Altoids, laundry detergent, and just… Edward. He holds me for a while, saying nothing, just letting me breathe and relax into him.

I try to fight back the confused tears that are threatening to burst through. I don't know why I feel so lost, so unstable, and it's only making this situation worse. I wish I could just let go and feel this. But I'm stuck trying to make sense of how I can enjoy a lie.

I focus on the feeling of Edward's arms around me, and what feels like a hard on pressing against the inseam of my pants.

The bell rings and pulls me from my thoughts. I untangle myself from Edward's lap and smooth my tank top over my stomach. But I'm shaking.

"It's okay, love. Please don't worry," Edward murmurs into my cleavage as I stand between his legs.

"I'm not. I'm fine." My voice falters.

"Bella, please. Come by tonight."

"I… I can't."

"I understand," he whispers, dejected.

"No, it's just, my Dad wants to have a special dinner together tonight before he leaves for work." I roll my eyes and make finger quotes. "It'll be late."

"Just come by after. Text me when you're done. Please." He sounds desperate, and I kind of like it.

"Okay, I'll try."

I shoulder my bag in a bleak daze. I don't want to leave Edward's warm, quiet office and be thrust out into the throngs of busy students meandering about in the cold. I sigh and pull the door open.

Jacob is waiting for me outside.

My stomach hits the floor.

"Hey, babe," he grins at me. Again with the hot and cold. I throw a wayward glance over my shoulder at Edward, but he's behind his desk already, pretending to grade papers.

"Hi, Jacob," I manage.

He reaches for my hand and before I can flinch away, his steel grip has me and I'm trapped. "I missed you." He starts dragging me by the hand to seventh period. I feel like a child next to him.

"Oh, please, Jake," I roll my eyes and try to ignore his very hot hand engulfing mine. "You were in gym. You don't miss anything while you're in there. Pumping iron is your first love."

"That's true. But if I could miss something, it would be you."

"I'm not a something. I'm a someone."

"Right," he says with a squeeze. I push down some bile. "Anyway, it's Friday."

"You make a valid point," I croon sweetly, trying not to drip sarcasm.

"Let me finish, Bella. It's Friday and I was wondering if I could take you out to the movies. Face Punch finally made it to a theater close by. I hate limited releases, but it finally made it to Port Angeles and we could drive out there…" he rambles. I guess he's nervous. He should be, because I'm about to reject this fucker, hardcore.

"Aw, sorry, Jake. I'm having dinner with my dad tonight. At the diner." I bite my lip to squelch a smile. I guess that wasn't as hardcore as I wanted, but it was still a rejection.

Two date offers in less than an hour. And I had to turn both of them down.

"Cool, then I'll come too." He squeezes my hand again. He opens the door to the psychology classroom and ushers me to my seat. Fucking gentleman. Didn't even give me a chance to protest. Besides, I'm sure that if I open my mouth, I'd puke all over Jacob's shiny black boots.

We go over hormones, dopamine, serotonin. The words start to run together as I try to find a way to get out of having dinner with my dad and now… Jacob. I just want to run to Edward and hold him forever. But instead I have steak and cobbler. With Jacob.

I cough a sickened little grunt. Jacob, ew.

He reaches across the row and places his hand over mine where it rests on top of my notebook. "You okay, sweetheart?"

I was dreaming about Edward's post-it notes that were stuck on the inside cover… I was okay, until now.

"Mhmm," I nod slowly, so taken aback that I don't know what else to do.

_Did Jacob just become my boyfriend?_

I sit on the floor and work on my psychology homework while I wait for Charlie to wake up. I'm taking notes from my textbook, but I can't stop thinking about tonight. I have to eat dinner with Jacob and my father… and then. And then, I get to see Edward.

A lot of Edward. Hopefully.

I hadn't really thought about this moment coming up so soon, though I'd wished for it.

I'm not stupid- I know we'll have to use…protection, but I'm not looking forward to it that much. I've never had to put a condom on someone, or seen someone actually do it on anything other than a banana. Thank you, health class. Every time I hear about people wrapping it up, it's followed by a list of complaints. I want Edward so badly, and I don't want to have to worry about some rubbery, chafing piece of latex rubbing my ladyparts raw.

I just want him.

I picture the pack of pills sitting in my jewelry box upstairs. I haven't taken them because I wasn't planning on having sex with anyone, especially Jacob, which is who the pills were allegedly intended for. At least that's what Rosalie thinks. And I wasn't sure about putting hormones in my body… It scared me.

But now the pros outweigh the cons. I think. I flip my textbook shut, hop up, and head for the stairs.

I try to be quiet so I don't wake Charlie, but my bedroom door makes a low click when I shut it behind me. I cringe.

I rummage through my old costume jewelry to find where I hid the little purple box. I slide the pack of pills out and peel a day label off the pack of instructions and warnings. I label today, Friday, as the first day. Then I pop out a little yellow pill and stick it to my tongue. I sip from the stale water glass that's sitting by my bed, but just as I'm swallowing, my door swings open.

I nearly shit myself. I hide the pill box behind my back.

"Hey, Chicken. Ready to go? You got your shoes on and everything."

"Yeah, uh huh," I manage after I swallow.

"Okay then, let's go. We each should drive our own cars so I can go straight to work after."

"Okay," I say.

He stands in the door waiting for me. I take a tentative step toward him so he knows I'm coming. As soon as he turns his back, I jam the pills into my purse.

Close one.

I follow him in the cruiser on the way into town. I can't stop thinking that I'm a changed woman. I'm pumped full of baby-prohibiting hormones and I'm gonna lose it tonight. To the most beautiful man I've ever been lucky enough to lay my eyes on.

I just have to get through dinner.

I park next to Charlie and he immediately pulls my door open for me. I get the feeling that he's rushing. I guess he doesn't want to be late for work.

When we walk in the diner, Jacob is waiting for us in a booth in the back. Charlie leads me over wordlessly. Jacob smiles in our direction, but I can tell he's texting under the table. I seriously don't get it, but whatever.

I take a deep breath. _Sex. Tonight._ It's my new mantra.

"After you, Bells," Charlie gestures. I slide into the booth so I'm sitting right next to the boy giant. I wait for my dad to take a seat, but he just stands there, awkwardly looking at Jacob. Suddenly, his phone buzzes and he reaches for it. He flips it open and reads a text message.

"Oh, look at that, they need me to come in early. Looks like it's just you kids alone tonight. We'll have dinner together another time, Bella," Charlie spouts in a perfectly-rehearsed rhythm.

I quirk an eyebrow at my father. "You planned this," I accuse.

"Sorry, kid." He shrugs, guilty. "Jake here even made me learn how to text so that this could be arranged." He gestures between us. "Have fun. I'll see you in the morning when I get back from work. Be good."

"Thanks Dad," I call after him as he makes his way to the door. I turn to Jacob. "You're unbelievable."

"I know," he boasts. I swear, I see him flex a little through his signature black tee shirt. It's weird.

It's silent mostly, not like our usual easy conversation. I'm aching to get out of here, but I'm also starving, so I figure I'll stay long enough to eat my spinach salad. Jacob orders meat patties. Literally. He says he's trying to bulk up, which is ridiculous because he's already a giant.

"Bella," he says, and puts his hand on top of mine for the second time today. "Listen, I…" I'm suddenly distracted when a cold rush of air blows my hair back as the door to the diner opens. I'm about to refocus my attempt to listen to Jacob, but I catch a glimpse of a very familiar face.

It's Edward.

"Al. You said it would be you, Jazz, and me. What the hell is this?" he force-whispers to his sister. He's angry, and it's kind of hot.

And I get to have him all to myself later.

The three of them make their way over to a booth. I bow my head and hope not to be noticed sitting here, on a date with another man. Okay, he's a fucking _boy_, alright?

"Tanya!" Mrs. Whitlock squeals. "This is my brother, Edward. Edward, Tanya."

"Alice has told me so much about you. I'm glad to finally meet the elusive Edward." I catch a flash of sequins from the corner of my eye and I look over to see a very leggy, very sparkly strawberry blonde lean in to air kiss my Edward.

_My _Edward.

I drop my fork. It clangs against my plate and hits the hardwood floor.

I try to pretend I don't exist.

"Hey, Mr. Edward!" Jacob booms at the same time that this alleged 'Tanya' hands me my floor-contaminated fork and whispers, "Here, darling."

Edward's head snaps in our direction and I try to hide behind my hair. "Mr. Black, Miss Swan, nice to see you out tonight." He struggles for his words and I peek at him between a lock of hair. I'm momentarily distracted by how hot he looks. Jeans, button down, blazer… and I can smell cologne.

He's on a date. My stomach drops. He's peering at me beseechingly, searching my face with his eyes. I shake my head, unsure of what he's looking for.

I just look back.

"Oh, you know these… children?" Tanya asks.

"Yes, I do. They are some of my best students."

"Aw, Mr. C! You don't have to say that," Jacob says a bit too enthusiastically. It's embarrassing. I just want to get through this salad and leave as soon as possible.

"Well, isn't that lovely…" the leggy thing mumbles. "So, shall we eat?"

Mr. and Mrs. Whitlock, my Edward, and his Thing all sit down at the booth behind us. Great.

I can feel Edward's heat on my back and I know he's sitting on the bench exactly behind me. A chill runs down my spine.

And the strawberry blonde is probably next to him.

Jacob is rambling about how cool it is that Edward thinks we're good students and how strange it is to see a teacher outside of school. I honestly hadn't thought much of it. I see more of Edward outside of school than I see of him in it. And that's saying a lot, considering I spend four hours a day with him in either his classroom or his office.

I feel myself flush as I remember the time we had alone in his office today. And the promise of tonight. Which seems all but crushed.

My phone buzzes in my purse next to me. I snatch my purse up and head for the bathroom.

"Where are you going?" Jacob whines after me.

"I have to pee," I deadpan. It's a universally acceptable excuse.

I scurry across the restaurant and lock myself in the bathroom. I drop my purse on the counter and dig for my phone. I know exactly who's buzzing me.

_What are you doing here? I thought you were having dinner with your dad._

My stomach squirms. I've been caught. Wait, no. This isn't my fault; I hadn't planned this behind Edward's back. In fact, I have nothing to feel bad about. He's the one on a date!

I slam my fingers onto the keys.

_What am I doing here? What are YOU doing here? And who are you with?_

I'm dripping jealousy, and I don't care that he can tell. I'm pissed. And I don't understand. Did he accept a date with a woman only after I refused to come over tonight? Good to know he has a sex backup, I guess.

My phone pings back.

_It was an ambush. I thought I was having dinner with Al and Jazz. Alone._

_Same thing happened to me. I didn't know I'd be alone with Jacob. _I don't want to type what's next, but I grow some balls and do it. _I still want to see you tonight. _I press send and wait, my stomach in a knot.

I slump down against the door, slightly relieved, but still worried about the fact that Edward is sitting next to some long, leggy thing, and that Jacob probably thinks I'm bulimic at this point.

My phone vibrates and I release a breath I didn't know I was holding.

_You okay? _I double take. What does Edward mean by that? I stare at the screen. Edward doesn't mean anything by it because this text is from Jacob.

I type back quickly, a little annoyed that he's bothering me at this moment. _I'm fine. Be back in a sec._

As I'm sending the message, my phone alerts me to another message. _If this isn't from Edward, I'm going to scream,_ I think.

_I want to see you, too. I'm trying to get out of here now. Come over when you're free._

I sigh in relief and type back a quick _yup, _grab my purse, and head back to dinner.

"You feeling okay?" Jake asks when I sit down in front of my half-eaten salad. I try not to look at Edward. No need to let on.

I grip my stomach. "Actually, I don't feel so well. I think I'd better go home." I say it just loud enough so that Edward knows I'm following through. I'm out of here. And I want to be with no one but him.

"Aw, shit. Really? That sucks. Let me take you home," Jacob offers.

"Thanks but I drove my car here." I grab my purse and coat and book it.

As I'm threading my arms through the sleeves of my coat and walking to my car, someone grabs both of my arms from behind. I let out a yelp, but a hand covers my mouth and I'm silenced. Like the true police chief's daughter I am, I start to fight. I kick and thrash.

"Bella, it's me," a voice breathes against my neck. My blood cools. "It's Edward. I'm sorry I scared you."

I turn to face him. "You scared the shit out of me, asshole."

"Language," he mock-chastises.

"Language, yourself!" It doesn't make sense but it's all I have.

He pushes me against a wall. I look around anxiously and realize we're in the privacy of the alley. I guess while I was kicking and screaming, he was leading me to the space between the buildings.

"I hated seeing you with someone else like that. On a date," Edward pants, just inches from my face.

"Me too. I hated it," I almost choke on my words as Edward's lips press down on mine.

The world seems to fall away as I'm blinded by the raw intensity of the moment. I close my eyes and breathe in Edward's kiss. I'm so thankful he came after me. So damn thankful.

He walks me backward until my back is pressed against the side of the building. I can hardly feel the cool brick through my coat as Edward cups my face, keeping it locked to his. His tongue weaves between my lips and explores my mouth. My breath catches in my chest and I feel like I'm drowning, unable to think straight or even truly grasp what's going on.

I don't try to. I just want to _feel. _My hands find Edward's chest without my permission and I grope him through his shirt.

I've felt him a few times before, in his office, on his couch, and sometimes pressed against my back when we sleep. But each time, I'm surprised by how _good_ it feels to touch him. I arch myself towards him, letting my curves mold into his hardness.

His hands trail down from where they're held against my flushing cheeks, down my collarbone to rest on my chest. His hands roll over my breasts and I pant as he kisses me neck. "Edwaaard," I moan.

"Shh, baby. I just wanna make you feel good."

I'm sure he can feel my rapid heart beat through my blouse, but I can't do anything besides let him touch me. His hands slip lower and his fingers glide under my blouse and around my waist. The sudden contact of skin surprises me and another low groan escapes my mouth.

"Babe, if you cant keep quiet, I'm going to have to take you home."

"Please," I whine.

"Please, what, Bella?" he teases.

"Take me now. Take me home."

"Which one, doll?"

"I don't know!" I whimper, so desperate and needy. I want him, I want everything.

He removes his hands from me and I cry out at the loss of contact.

"Drive home. Park in front of your house. I'll be right behind you."

"Okay," is all I can think to say. I realize there are tears in my eyes. I blink them away as he walks away from me towards his car. I wait a few seconds and then edge myself towards the entrance to the alley. I peer out from around the corner. The lot seems to be empty, and save for a few patrons inside the restaurant, it doesn't look like there's anyone to spot me. I straighten my clothing and walk straight to my truck.

It's only when I'm in the cab of my truck that the reality of what's just happened and what's apparently about to happen crashes down on me. I grip my head in my hands.

I know that if I sit here too long thinking about the repercussions of losing my v-card to my older and better-looking teacher who I'm in love with, I'll never leave the parking lot. So I gun the engine and drive to my house.

The drive goes by in a blur and I'm in the driveway before I realize it. I sit there until I see the lights of Edward's Volvo round the corner. He pulls up in front of his house and gets out of his car without looking in my direction.

I slide down from my seat and step out of the truck. It's just started to rain, a fine mist. I dart across the street and meet him on his porch where he's holding the door open for me. I enter the house wordlessly and inhale the delicious Edward smell that lingers in there always. I watch Edward over my shoulder as he pointedly looks out the door, both ways, like someone about to cross the street.

He closes the door and flips the lock.

"All clear," he says, grinning. "Now where were we?"

He pulls me by the lapels of my jacket towards him. I expect a fierce kiss, but he just holds me for a minute, stroking my hair as my head rests on his chest. I can feel that his heartbeat is echoing the pace mine had back in the alley.

I want to ask him if he's nervous, but feel too stupid to actually make the words come out of my mouth. Instead, I sigh into his shirt.

He leans down and plants a kiss on top of my head. I look up at him and he grips my chin and pulls my face to his. My eyes slip closed before his lips touch mine. They're so soft, but the contrast of his beard scratching my face has me wanting more. I tip up on my toes to find more of him. His face scratches mine again and I worry I'm going to get rug burn if I keep this up.

The feel of his hands on the back of my neck immediately distracts me. And then they're at the front of my coat, coaxing it off me and letting it fall to the floor. I mimic his actions and unbutton his coat and tug on it until he lets it drop. I start unbuttoning his shirt and I'm about halfway down when he grasps the hem of my blouse and pulls it off over my head.

A chill runs through me. I don't know if it's the cold or the nerves, or both, but I fold my arms lightly across my chest, a little embarrassed by my growing nakedness. And Edward's extreme clothedness.

"Shit, baby. You look good." I look down to see what he's ogling. My breasts in asee-through, black lace bra. I guess the view is okay. I shrug off my fears and continue working on his buttons. He undoes the cuffs of this shirt as I get to the last one. He removes it and throws it onto the growing pile of clothing between our feet.

Then he lunges at me, scooping me up into his arms and carrying me over to the couch. He sits me on the armrest and kisses me soft on the lips. "Bella, I love you."

"Me too. I love you, Edward." I lift my face to ask for another kiss and he answers with hands in my hair, scruff on my cheek,, his chest against mine.

He pulls his tee shirt off over his head and I watch as his hands roam the waistband of my jeans, as if he's asking for permission. I nod in approval and he slowly slides the button through its hole and pulls the zipper down.

He rests his palms against my hipbones and strokes his thumbs across my stomach. Each time a finger touches my navel, I feel a pang of need pulse at my center. He looks in my eyes and keeps stroking. I'm shaking with desire.

He moves his hands lower and strokes his thumb against the seam on my jeans. This is the closest I've never been to being touched _there, _and I can't escape the loud, embarrassing groan that flies from my lips.

I eagerly grab at him and he nearly falls on top of me as I pull at him. I fumble with his belt, anxious to get him out of his pants as well.

"Come on, Bella. Upstairs," Edward whispers in my ear. His breath is hot.

He pulls on my hands and I slide off my perch. We stumble up the stairs in half of our clothing, yanking off what fabric remains.

When we make it to the door, I'm suddenly nervous again. This is really about to happen. He keeps kissing me and he gently pushes me through the open door of his bedroom. He closes the door with his foot without removing his lips from mine.

He walks me backward until I feel the backs of my knees come up against the bed I've slept so many nights in. It feels like a different bed tonight.

It feels like a different _world._

He eases me slowly down, his body covering mine. He kisses me deeply and purposefully. All I can do is lie there and moan. His lips roam my cheeks, my neck, my collarbone, my breasts, as he works me out of my jeans. I try and touch him back; stroke his chest, reach for the boxers that are now exposed above the waist of his jeans. But I can't reach. He wont let me.

He slides my pants off and they drop with a satisfying swish to the floor. I'm laying here, exposed in my bra and underwear. _At least they match,_ I think to myself.

I struggle to touch him again. "No, baby. Just be very still," he whispers. My skin prickles with goosebumps.

I do as he says because really, I have no choice. I'm paralyzed by the gravity of the situation. This is so hot that I literally can't move.

He kisses my lips again, just one soft peck before he moves. I close my eyes and revel at the sensation when his lips touch my ear. I shiver as I feel his teeth lightly nibble at the lobe before they move again. Lower. He licks my neck, slow, wet kisses. He lingers there a while until I'm squirming under him.

He moves again. I feel his hot mouth breathing over my nipple, teasing me. I arch my back into him and his lips come down over my bra. It's not enough. I moan, needing more. His hands come up from where they were resting at my hips to massage the undersides of my breasts. I still want more.

"Uhnnnnn…" I'm unable to voice my needs.

"Shh," he teases. I hush.

He captures a nipple in each hand. It's all I can do to keep from screaming. He rubs them in circles as he kisses my sternum. I'm too blissed out to worry about my embarrassingly escalating heart rate.

With the tips of his long fingers, he reaches up and pulls the cups of my bra down. If I thought I was exposed before, I had no idea what I was talking about. My nipples are hard and erect and completely at the mercy of Edward's hands. But then his mouth comes down and I feel the wet warmth of his tongue there. I moan something completely unintelligible. He rolls his tongue around my nipple as he strokes, tugs, and toys with the other. I suddenly feel myself tighten deep inside.

I've touched myself plenty of times, but I've never been this close to getting off from just… this.

"Holy crow," I pant.

"What did you say, baby?" His lips are no longer on me. I don't like this.

"I don't know," I groan, confused and blinded by my want.

"Alright." He kisses my sternum again and reaches behind me to unclasp my bra. He pulls it off from me completely and I shiver again.

"Don't worry, you'll be warm in no time."

His hands knead gently into me as he begins to kiss my stomach. He trails a line of kisses all the way to my bellybutton. And then he dips his tongue into my navel and I nearly explode.

_This is the moment,_ I think. _We're going to do it. _I start to sit up, ready to fully unclothe him, but he wordlessly pushes me back down.

He laps again at my navel and continues kissing me… lower. His thumbs rub against the elastic hem of my panties and I catch on to what's going on.

I am so unprepared for this. Anxiety begins to build up in my chest, but it's completely squelched when I feel his thumb stroke at my center. And then I tremble.

He kisses along the edge of my panties, and then down over my pubic bone, and then… and then right _there._

I whimper.

He pulls this last shred of clothing off of me. I'm painfully aware that he's still wearing his jeans and boxers. And maybe even his socks.

But then I feel his fingers. Slowing rubbing at the heart of me, where I'm most sensitive.

My hips thrust toward him involuntarily and I feel rather than see his other hand come down to hold my hips in place.

He rubs my clit in slow, aching circles until I feel like I'm about to burst. But just when I'm about to fall over the edge, he stops. He removes his hands from my body and my stomach churns at the absence of him.

But then he's back. Slick, wet, long fingers easing into my heat. I cry out. He pumps, slowly at first, but then with growing speed. My head is spinning and I'm rendered unable to do anything but _feel._

My eyes are squeezed shut as my brain tries to process all this pleasure. But I know it when I feel it. His lips on me. All over me. His tongue mimics what his able fingers were doing just moments ago. Gentle circles on my aching bud.

It doesn't take long. I instantly feel my insides begin to coil tighter and tighter. But then he hooks his fingers inside of me and I can't hold on any longer. I fall. Gloriously spinning out of control. I feel myself pulsing over his hand.

"That's right, baby, cum for me," he growls.

As I'm coming down, he slides his fingers out of me and repeats the trail of kisses he left on my torso, in reverse. Along my stomach, chest and neck until he reaches my lips where he plants soft and tender kisses between each of my breathless pants.

"You are so beautiful, Bella. I mean that."

I'm so delirious. I can't fight back. I just hum.

Reality slowly drifts back in. The anxiety comes back. I need to reciprocate. I _want _to reciprocate. I just don't know how.

He's lying next to me, looking a bit worn out himself. I get up on my knees and straddle him naked as I slide the rest of his clothes off. I hadn't thought this through very well because when I come back up from his ankles, I'm greeted with a very hard, very large cock.

I reach for it tentatively. I grasp it with one hand, and then the other. I have no idea what I'm doing, but I move my hands slowly up and down. "Shit, babe," he groans. I must be doing something right.

My confidence steeled by his praise, I lean down over him and press my lips to the head. Then give it a lick. It's salty, and hot. And not at all unpleasant. I take the tip of it into my mouth and explore it with my tongue. "Ahhh. Baby, stop. Stop. You're gonna make me cum too soon," he says as he eases my face from his dick.

He pulls me towards him and kisses me. It's soft, shy at first. But the kiss grows in intensity and then he pulls me even closer. He flips me over suddenly and I'm pressed under the weight of him. I want to feel more of him. I can't get enough.

He stops kissing and takes my face in his hands. His eyes search mine; he must be looking for a sign of doubt, hesitancy. But I have none. I nod and stretch to reach his lips again.

"Let me just find a condom," he whispers against my lips, his body still hovering over me.

"Oh, uhm, that's okay," I say, biting my lip in an attempt to hide the giddy smile that wants to burst forth.

"Okay, that's fine. We can stop. No worries."

"No, no, no." He obviously misunderstands me. "I'm on the pill."

"Oh. Ohhh," he laughs.

He relaxes and starts to touch me again, this time tentative and slow.

"I want you, Edward, please."

"You have me, Bella," he whispers. He aligns himself with my opening.

I take in a breath and ready myself.

But as he pushes into me, something snaps inside me. Literally and figuratively. The physical pain I feel at the center of me opens the floodgates and without warning I'm crying.

They're silent tears. I shake and bite my lip. I close my eyes and the tears slip out and run down my face.

He moves gently inside me and I rock back. My hands roam his body, trying to find purchase anywhere I can grasp. I pull him deeper into me and sob against his chest.

I hardly hear Edward as he asks me if I'm okay.

Everything I've been fighting, everything I've been hiding from, everything I've been lying to myself about just crumbles as he fills me. And it leaves me feeling raw and very exposed. More than just naked.

Time and space blur and I can't help but lose myself in the feel of Edward. He moves and I move. I can feel his desperate pants against my neck, his warm hand on my breasts, his heat between my thighs, and I can't do nothing but move for him.

And then I'm falling again, snapping like a rubber band, coiling and drifting.

Edward follows soon after.

He pulls out of me and I feel the wetness at my core begin to seep.

From somewhere distant, I hear the sound of a phone ringing, but I'm too sleepy to look for it now.

- - -

**A/N: Readers, I'm so sorry for the delay! I'm not even going to make excuses. You should know that updates are probably not going to come regularly from here on out, as I'm just a few weeks away from graduating - holy freakout! But if you add this story to your updates, you'll always be the first to know when a new chapter gets posted. Also, feel free to follow me on twitter (EllTeeEm) for gushy tweets about my boyfriend, complaints about my personal life, and ramblings about how the writing is going.**

**I really appreciate every single person who reads and reviews this story. Hearing what you guys think makes my whole fucking life. Lotsa love!**

**And as always, thanks to C Shell for being so damn wonderful! *hugzies***

**See you next time.**


	26. To See What I've seen

**Author's Note: The characters and settings of Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. The original content, ideas, and plot lines of this story belong to the author. The events in this story are fictional and any similarities to actual persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Additionally, this story contains subject matter not suitable for minors. Underage drinking, drug use, consensual sex, strong language, abuse, and other adult content may be present in this story. Again, all sex in this story is consensual. If you are under 18 and/or uncomfortable with any of these subjects, please be advised that this story may not be for you.**

Leading Lady

Chapter 26 – To See What I've Seen

Bella comes with a squeal and I release inside of her, spent.

I pull out and roll off of her with a sigh. She curls up against me, her naked breasts pushing into my side, her arms snaking around my neck. She won't let me go, and as I lurch towards the edge of the bed in an effort to reach the bathroom, she clings to me, her tiny arms seeming to me now stronger than a bodybuilder's.

I float in the pleasure of Bella's embrace, and nearly drop off to sleep.

Her phone is ringing downstairs in her purse. I can hear it vibrating against the floor where she dropped it by the door when she came in. It must be the third try. I want to go pick it up or shut it off but Bella won't release me, so I stay. She hears the incessant ringing and stirs. She hitches her pale leg over my hips and rubs her slick pussy over the outside of my thigh.

She was wet, but not this wet. I reach down and touch her center, remembering the taste of it as I licked her. She moans and pushes into my fingers before releasing a deep sigh and relaxing again.

I must have really worn her out.

When I retrieve my hand from between her legs, I notice they're smeared not only with the dregs of my arousal, but with blood as well.

"Shit," I mutter to no one but myself. I hadn't necessarily considered this. I'm not sure if it would have changed my actions tonight, but knowing that it was Bella's first time might have been some useful information in this situation. I hope I was the right person to… do that to her.

_Not to her, _with_ her._

I cast my negative thoughts aside and set out to clean her up.

I gently lift her leg off of me and place it gingerly on top of her other. I pad to the bathroom naked, my very exhausted cock dangling limp in front of me. I'm exhausted. After an orgasm that powerful, I'm not sure I'll ever be able to get hard again. But just thinking of Bella's face pinching together as she moans my name has me twitching again.

I run the water in the tap until its warm but not hot and hold a clean washcloth under it for a few seconds. I ring it out and take it back to the bed with me. Careful not to disturb this sleeping beauty, I carefully wipe her clean, smoothing the white cloth over her delicate skin until it turns pink.

I don't even think of washing it; I throw it across the room into the basket in the bathroom.

I dress Bella and myself in a fresh pair of boxers and a white tee each, and crawl into bed next to her. It's after two in the morning and I'm wiped.

I turn the switch on the bedside table and relish in the darkness.

Only it's not dark.

Red and blue lights flash through the blinds of my window.

My stomach lurches and I fear the worse. I tell myself to calm down, no one saw us. I'm not going to get caught. But at the bottom of my heart, knowing I've done something wrong hurts so fucking much.

I hate thinking that being with Bella was anything but perfect, but I know in the eyes of others, what I just did was completely immoral. I love Bella and I know she loves me back. But the fact that she's my student has us both sneaking around like a pair of criminals.

Which I guess I am now.

I go to the window, and peer surreptitiously out of it. Sure enough, Chief Swan's cruiser is parked in front of his house and the lights are swirling. He's leaning against the hood, a cell phone pressed between his ear and his shoulder as he scratches into a small pad of paper.

I almost think to go out there and tell him Bella's inside, safe with me, he looks so panicked. But I know he'd be even more furious if I knew what I just did to her. _With her, _I correct myself. As if convincing myself that sleeping with the police chief's barely-legal daughter wasn't possibly stupidest thing I've ever done in my life.

My phone buzzes from the pocket of my jeans on the floor next to my bed. I nearly throw up in my mouth, I'm so startled, but I scramble to them and yank my phone from the denim trap as fast as possible.

It's Alice.

And now I fear I'm really screwed. She undoubtedly knows everything; she always does. But I have no chance but to answer. I know she'll keep calling until I do. I have a choice: pretend I have no idea why there's blaring sirens outside my window, or throw myself at the mercy of my sister and ask for her to cover for me.

"Hello?" I drawl, still unsure of what I'll do.

"Edward, wake the fuck up. One of your student's is missing. Bella, remember? The one we just saw at the diner?"

"What do you mean she's missing? We just saw her!" I spit, angry for so many reasons.

"Her father got off his shift early and came home to find her truck parked in front of the house, but she's not home. He's scared shitless and is desperate to find her. So put on your boots, you can help Jasper head the search party. I have to man the phone tree."

"God, you're nosy," I mutter.

"Excuse me?" She shoots.

"Hold on, Alice. How do you know she's not partying with her friends, or at a movie?"

"Wow, you're really failing this test here."

"What test, Alice?" I mutter annoyed. This is not how I imagined spending my evening.

"Look, I know she's in your bed right now. You're lucky I didn't rat you out to her father when he started calling every adult in Forks. I can't believe you're sleeping with a student, much less the daughter of the police chief, but I guess I should have expected this. You've always been quite the playboy. At least –"

"Oh shut up, Alice!" I finally break. "You have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. Yes, Bella is in my bed right now, but it nothing like what you think it is. I love her. Okay? I can't believe I have to even defend myself to you right now."

"Right. You love her. You don't even –"

"Alice! Please! Please just stop. I've never ever felt this way about anyone before. She's making me think things I've never… I can't even explain it. I know how this looks. And that's the worst part. I know what people will think. I can't have that. I don't want her thinking this is wrong, when it's so right between us. Ill return her home right now, I don't want her father worrying, but I'll lose her and my job forever if he knows where she was. You have to help me. I'll owe you."

"Okay, okay. You won't owe me. Just, just have her dressed and ready in 10 minutes. I'll be at your back door."

"Thank you." I say and hang up.

I sit at the edge of my bed and put my head in my hands. I know the ten minutes Alice has allotted me are quickly ticking away, but I need a second to think.

So much has happened. I just made love to the most beautiful woman I've ever met – a woman I can't even call my girlfriend.

Alice knows. She knows everything. Bella's father is across the street freaking out. And my sheets are going to be stained.

Fuck.

I have to wake her. She is so gorgeous in her sleep. Her nearly translucent eyelids tremble in betrayal of a dream. She stirs and I know I can't wait any longer.

"Bella, wake up. You have to go home now."

"Please no. Thanks." She mumbles. So adorable. I chuckle in wonder of her, but focus again.

"Yes, Bella. Up." I shake her a little. "I don't want to worry you, but this is serious. You dad is looking for you. And Alice knows."

She bolts straight up. "Shit! Fuck. This is not happening! My dad knows? Fuck!"

"No, you're dad doesn't know anything about us or tonight. He just knows you're not at home right now and he's worried. I had to tell Alice everything, she's going to cover for me. She's on her way now, so you have to get dressed."

She blinks away her shock and gets out of my bed.

She silently moves about my house dressing herself again. I pace behind her, slipping back into a pair of jeans myself. She won't look at me, but goes to stand by the back door, somehow knowing Alice will be there soon.

"Are you mad at me, love?"

Her little mouth pops open. "Never! I'm just… tired. And disappointed. This isn't how I thought losing my virginity would go." She mutters.

"I wish you had told me it was your first time."

"Whatever, I don't want to talk about it," she grumbles as she pushes her arms through the sleeves of her coat.

I want to press for more information, I need to talk this through with her, but she's saved by Alice's arrival.

Alice's tiny hand wraps on the back door. It clanks in its metal frame. I take Bella's hand in mine and lead her back. No words pass between us as we close the small distance; a tension hangs in the air.

"Hi, I love you." Alice chirps as soon as I open the door. Before I can even think to greet her back, she takes Bella's hand from mine. "You're coming with me." It sounds like a growl, and I hate watching Bella being dragged across my back lawn towards the car where Jasper sits waiting in the drivers seat. Bella slinks into the back seat and Alice shuts the door with a quiet tap.

Before she gets in the front seat, she takes her phone from the pocket of her jeans and waves it at me. I instinctively touch the phone in my pocket it buzzes.

_Meet us at the bottom of the Hoh hiking trail in 15 minutes._

When I look up from the text, the car is pulling away. Bella waves from her back seat window. They drive away into the distant and I'm left standing barefoot on my back porch by myself. I feel like I'm living a bad country song. It's getting late and my brain feels like it's starting to shut off. I go back in my house and put my shoes and jacket on. I stare at my watch for 10 minutes. When the second hand hits 12, I open the front door and go to my car. Charlie isn't standing out front anymore. The light from his kitchen window paints a crooked square on the front lawn. I'm momentarily distracted by this, but I refocus my brain and get in my car.

I drive the three mile drive to the trail head. Alice is on her hands and knees throwing dirt on Bella and Jasper is on the phone. I can't help the giggle that bubbles in my throat as I take in this little scene.

"What are you doing?" I bark.

"Listen. I only have time to say this once. Bella's father will be here in five minutes. Bella decided to go on a walk after her date with Jacob."

"It was not a date!" Bella and I interject at the same time.

"Shut up, both of you." Alice snaps back. "Now listen! She came here, went hiking, didn't realize how late it was. Had just decided to turn around when you and Jasper found her heading back down the trail. That's when you called me and I met you here. Got it?"

"Yup." I mumble. I hope this works.

We sit in a forced silence for a few minutes while we wait for Chief Swan and out impending doom. I can feel Bella's closeness as her shoulder touches mine. She's trembling. I need to soothe her, to make her know this is all going to be okay, but she's sitting on her hands, stoically facing forward.

As soon as we hear the cruiser approaching, Bella jumps up and starts pacing. Alice goes to stand with her.

"Dude," Jasper starts. It's the first words he's spoken to me all night and I know I can't take it right now.

"Dude, yourself," I shoot back. "Save it. I know this is fucked. Lecture me tomorrow."

"Alright, man." And that's it. The police car pulls into view. It screeches to a halt.

Charlie jumps out and bolts for his daughter. "Bella!" he shouts practically in her ear. "You scared me half to death, kid." He puts his arms around her, but she just stands there, her arms loose at her side.

"I'm sorry. I just needed some…" But she can't finish. He pulls away from her. Towards me.

Here it comes, this is the moment. I'm about to have my head ripped off by the chief of police. In front of the woman I love, my sister and her husband.

"Guys, thank you. I was so worried. Thank you for finding her." He sticks his hand out to shake mine. I stutter, but thrust my hand into his.

"No worries, sir. Just looking out for… one of my best students. I'm glad she's safe too."

He nods at Jasper over my shoulder and pulls me to the side of the group. Bella's jaw is slack and her brows are furrowed in horror. I give her a half smile in an effort to reassure her that what is about to happen to me will be totally fine.

"Can I talk to you for a second, son?" He asks. My stomach turns.

"Yes, of course," I choke.

"Jacob… Jacob Black. He's one of your students, too right?"

"Yes, sir."

"I've known him… and his father for a long time. But, I'm sure you know this. It's uh, it's not always easy to know your kid. See what I mean?" I nod and wonder when he'll come to the point. "I just wanted to ask, see if you, as his teacher… Can you tell? Is he a... would you say he's a good kid?"

"Yeah, I'd say that much. Maybe a bit distracted, but he's got good intentions, I think. Why?"

"Well, I don't know. He called saying that Bella had left dinner with him, that she was sick. So I went home to check on her. Her car was there, but she wasn't. I don't know. Something just seemed off about it."

"I wouldn't worry, sir. She probably just needed some air. Especially if she was sick." I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place. I want to scapegoat the shit out of Jacob, but I can't do that to a student. I don't want to land Bella in more trouble, but I want to be as honest as possible with her father. I force myself to stop talking.

"I think I'll ground her. I just don't want her thinking she can be out in the woods like this all the time."

"Right," I say, feeling like my hands are tied.

He turns away from me. "Bella, you're grounded. Get in the car."

I can tell this is hard for him and I almost laugh at his attempt at parenting, but when Bella shoots me a glare from over the hood of the cruiser, I stifle my giggle. I don't know what I did.

She gets in without a word, and for the second time tonight, I watch as Bella is driven away from me.

***

The final bell rings and I roust myself from behind my desk. Audition time. I'd probably be more excited about this moment if the last week and a half hadn't been so hellish.

I'd become so used to Bella's warm, soft body in my bed, that in her absence it became impossible to sleep. I became more and more exhausted night by night. The forced sleep that came to me just before sunrise had been enough to sustain me, but the question of if and when she would return to me had me feeling like I was ready to crack.

After that night - that one magical night when Bella had completely let me in, and then had been taken away from me - she turned cold. I could see a flicker of the girl I once knew, the girl I fell in love with, at times during our sixth period meetings. But mostly, I was greeted in the morning by a sunken, sullen girl. I wondered if being apart from me was what was eating her. Or was it having to be close to me?

The poems she brought me made it even worse. Eloquent, painful and ambiguous, they haunted me. I was beginning to piece together why she was so scared to love. But I couldn't separate fact from fiction and she refused to distinguish the two. 

In English, she had become a silent, shy student. The only times I ever saw my Bella was when I caught her rolling her eyes at Jessica. Other than small moments like that when I snagged a glance of her sarcasm, she just sat quietly at her desk, taking notes and wringing her hands in her lap alternately.

In theatre, it was a little bit better. She participated. She followed my warm ups, read aloud from various scripts, even gave her opinion on other students' performances.

She chatted with Rosalie and Emmett, whispered to Angela as usual. But she had taken to holding Jacob's hand as she walked between classes. He'd hardly let it go. Once, when walking by the quad at lunch, I found him gripping her right hand with his as she nibbled at a granola bar with her left. It was as if he couldn't even bear to give her her own hands to eat.

I never addressed it directly to her. I got it. She'd moved on. Or maybe she was never really... whatever she is with Jacob is completely different than it was with me. Either way, I just couldn't understand why she never smiled anymore.

I understood that he was a much safer choice. More acceptable at least. I was never right for her. At least not today.

But either way it hurt. A lot.

I refocus my attention on the present. I round the corner to the theater and am met with one of the most pleasant a refreshing views I've seen in days: dozen of students mulling around the grass gesticulating to themselves, talking with each other over xeroxed copies of Shakespeare, and wringing their hands in nervousness. My stomach twists in anticipation.

I open the door to the theatre wide and prop it open with a click. Like cattle being herded in for the night, my students shuffle in. I greet each one with a smile and a hello. I know some of them from my drama class, others from English, and a few I've never met before; I've only seen them munching sandwiches out on the quad or leaning against cars after the final bell. I'm pleased that anyone came at all.

Bella and Rosalie are among the last to enter. Their arms are linked. Bella won't meet my gaze, but Rosalie's eye stab me like daggers: a reminder of our first conversation. I nod in acknowledgement. I don't know what else to do.

I leave the door proper open for any stragglers and make my way towards the front. I'm nervous. I'm excited, I'm scared. 

I hope I can do this right, direct this play. I hope... so many things. I squash that thought and take my place onstage.

"Welcome everyone! These are the auditions for the spring musical. In case you didn't know, it's A Midsummer Night's Dream." I'm an idiot, but I force myself to keep talking. "I hope you all have come with a prepared song and monologue. If you don't have a song ready, please just sing anything you can. Twinkle twinkle little star would suffice. If don't have a monologue, there will be some copies of the one's I've selected by the back door. I'll have you line up stage left at this ramp," I point to my left, just in case anyone isn't familiar with stage directions. "Please deliver your song first. You can give you music to Mrs. Meyers and she'll begin whenever you're ready. After your song, please perform your monologue. When you're all done, please exit stage right." I point to my right. "Guys, I'm super excited and I know you'll all do well. This may be futile, but please don't be nervous. This should be fun."

Mrs. Meyers enters from the back of the theater. I gesture for her to come up. "Please welcome Mrs. Meyers up here. She's going to lead you in some vocal warm-ups."

I turn the stage over to the choir teacher and let her do what she does best. The students rise and follow her in scales. She makes them loosen up by shaking their bodies and bubbling their lips. I probably need to loosen up too, but I'm not in any mood to relax. I take my seat towards the middle of the audience. Just as I'm settling in, I feel a little tap on my shoulder. I nearly squeal. I turn to see Alice bouncing and beaming at me. I have to admit that a certain part of me was hoping it was Bella finally asking for my attention. 

"Mind if I watch? I am the costume designer after all," she drawls, almost British. I roll my eyes and pat the seat next to me. She sits down with a plop and pulls a tiny notebook out of the breast pocket of her grey blazer. She pulls a pen from behind her ear and begins scribbling. There's nothing really going on at the moment, but I can tell this is serious business for her, so I keep shut and reach into my briefcase for my yellow notepad and handy green pen.

Mrs. Meyers finishes playing and looks up at me. "Okay guys, feel free to continue warming up and practicing outside. I'll close the doors to keep it quiet in here. Whenever you're ready, please line up as I've instructed and give us your best. Break a leg."

Some students get up and move outside, a few drift towards the ramp at stage left, but one figure, dressed all in black makes its way towards the stage.

"I'd like to go first if that's alright."

I look up. It's Bella.

My breath hitches in my throat.

**A/N: OMG! An effing chapter! Thanks, as ever for your patience. I love each and every one of you readers. If you love me back – even just a little bit – please leave a review!**

**Huge thanks and a giant grope to TingleBunnyMinx for guest beta-ing. What a hottie.**


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